Lottie Albright

Venice, 1742. Tito Amato has regained his zest for performing and is once again singing lead roles at the Teatro San Marco. On opening night, the famous castrato has the entire audience entranced-except for one box with its scarlet curtains stubbornly drawn. Annoyed at being ignored, Tito aims the full force of his golden throat at the fourth-tier box. He is astounded when the curtains part and a woman tumbles over the railing. The victim is Zulietta Giardino, a mischievous courtesan involved with a young glass maker. Did a wager over a rival courtesan's jewels spell Zulietta's death? Or did the motive involve sinister events in the glass factories of Murano? Tito faces troubles of a different sort at home. His upstanding neighbors regard his household as an immoral den of theatrical riffraff and disdain his wife, Liya, as an apostate Jew. While Liya attempts to reconcile with her disapproving family in the ghetto, Tito strives to be a good father to his adopted son.

Undersheriff Estelle Reyes-Guzman is always busy, but now more so than ever. The sheriff is still not completely recovered from his stay in the hospital, and she is recovering from a hospital stay herself. After a long day at work, Estelle is happy to clear off her desk and drive home where her beloved family waits. She hears her cell phone ringing as she pulls into the driveway. A truck has gone off the road and the driver's body found near the wreck. Back on the job, Estelle drives to the scene, where she finds more questions than answers. Was the truck's going over the hill really an accident? And why was there a single footprint on the man's body? An autopsy spurs further puzzles. The sixth in the Posadas County Mystery series.

Layers of deadly intrigue bind generations of families in historian Lottie Albright's Western Kansas community. When false accusations threaten senatorial candidate Brian Hadley's political career, secrets whispered to Lottie as editor of the county history books spur a personal search for his aunt's murderer. Ignoring warnings from her twin, clinical psychologist Josie Albright, Lottie dons a badge to gain access to information. She delves into a horrifying cold case to prove her merits as a deputy and impresses Sheriff Sam Abbot with her ability to combine historical research methods and police procedure. Soon Josie and her sister add their helpful expertise in untangling the web of families bound by a lethal legacy of prideful secrets.

No crime is forgiven, and no mistake overlooked in this new addition to the critically acclaimed Posadas County Mystery series… When a developer shows up in Posadas County, the locals get nervous. The small town along the southern border of New Mexico has enjoyed a surge in visitors, jobs, and prosperity since rancher Miles Waddell opened an eco-friendly complex. But then the developer buys land just next door, with plans for a project that will threaten the county's newfound success. Tension is at an all-time high when someone shoots up the newsroom-and then the developer is found dead at the base of a cliff. Sheriff Bob Torrez and Undersheriff Estelle Reyes-Guzman know these events are all too convenient and bloody not to be connected. With support from Bill Gastner-an old Western sheriff straight out of the movies-the partners dive into a heated investigation. But as the case gets personal, the two will have to untangle a web of convoluted evidence before the community turns on itself. Readers of C. J. Box and Anne Hillerman will be riveted by this female protagonist thriller set in the rural, rugged Southwest. The newest of Steven F. Havill's Western mysteries and thrillers will lead you down trails of danger and deceit… But will one of these paths lead to justice? "The Posadas County that Havill has created is so tangible, you feel that if you walked down its streets, you would be greeted by old friends."-Bookreporter "Less Than A Moment reveals Posadas' sense of small-town life through the conversations of multiple characters and by rolling them into the narrative, whether they're related or unrelated to the crimes."-Albuquerque Journal