Tracy  Fabre

Callie By The Bay,
published in June 2011
by Books.

From the back cover
Life along the eastern shore of
Mobile Bay, Alabama, should be
as peaceful as it is scenic.
For Callie Rogo, whose
complex husband
Danny was once suspected of murdering
his first wife, this is not always true.
It's not just that she's still attracted to
Ray DuCanto, the detective who helped keep
Danny out of jail, but now she's involved in the investigation of the possible murder of her
young step-daughter's classmate.
Struggling with her feelings for both men
while assisting with the investigation and
trying to hold her family together with
humor if nothing else, Callie finds that
sometimes scenery just isn't enough

You can find Callie at 

ISBN 9781600763229 / $13.95

Callie By The Bay, Excerpt #1

    Danny was home when we got there; unusual for
a Wednesday, but sometimes things were slow for The Fix-It Guys. He was sitting on the porch waiting for us, sprawled back against the porch supports, and waved lazily as we got out of the car
     Emmy, in a rush, called out, "Daddy! Callie almost had an accident with Tommy's mom!"
     He arched one eyebrow at me, letting Emmy wrap herself around him. "Yeah? What happened?" 
She told us to hold on and then we heard squealing tires like on TV. Then she got out of our car and Tommy’s mom got out of her car and then Tommy’s mom drove away really fast and then Callie drove us away really fast too so the policeman couldn’t catch us.” She was speaking breathlessly, and Danny looked between her and me rather a lot.

     I shook my head. “That’s not quite right, but it’ll do. What’s for supper, husband, since you’re home early?”

    “Like I know.” He stood up, and deposited Emmy at his feet. “How about spaghetti?”

    “Sure, except we have no pasta.”

    “We could get some off the pasta tree.”

    “Daddy!” Emmy protested. “There’s no such thing as a pasta tree!”

    “How do you know? Maybe you should run around the house looking for one just in case you’ve been wrong all this time,” he suggested, and frankly I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had hung pasta boxes from a pine just to mess with her.

    But she fell for it, shrugged off her book bag and took off around the house.

    “Now,” he said meaningfully, “what’s this about a car accident and squealing tires?”

    I sighed. “Lynn Frazer was staring at me and acting like she  wanted to talk to me but she kept chickening out, so I sort of…well, I sort of forced the issue.”

    He stared at me. “Yeah, it was stupid,” I went on. “But the kids—and the hamster—were buckled up and our top speed was at most two miles per hour, and it was okay and it worked.”

    “It ‘worked’?” he echoed in disbelief.

    I laughed. “Yes, she finally said what she had to say.”

    “Which was?”

    “That I should be careful. Whatever,” I added impatiently, “she was just too squirrelly.”

    “And what’s this about running from the police?”

    “Oh, please. We merely made a prudent, albeit rapid, exit from the area.” I walked past him up the steps. “Besides, he was on foot. He’d never have caught us.”














Cover image by Peter Joseph Swanson, who morphed and improved two of my own favorite photos of Mobile Bay.

The above-mentioned cover artist, Peter Joseph Swanson, also a friend and fellow author,
"interviewed" me on here,
where I explained that Callie is actually the first "real" novel I completed, more than ten years ago. I've always loved M0bile Bay and knew I had to write about it in some fashion, some day.
Now, finally, that novel has come to life.

Callie By The Bay, 
Excerpt #2

        “DuCanto,” he said crisply into my ear.
        “Ray. This is Callie Rogo.” Funny, but I think I sounded a little hesitant.
“Hey,” he said warmly. “Good to hear your voice.”    
Oh God, it was good to hear his. I could picture him sitting at his desk, smiling a little, and wondering why in the hell I was calling him. “I hate to do this, but I need a favor.”
He laughed. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think I’d actually hear from you.”
“What, ever? Or about—what?” He could not possibly know why I was calling him.    
“You’re the last person I’d have expected to ask for a ticket-fix. And by the way, I always say no to those requests. Nothing personal.”
“Oh, my speeding ticket! I forgot about that.” I had, in fact. “Yes, I am the last person who would call for a fix, and you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking that about me.”
“I should be ashamed of myself for thinking a lot of things about you, but criminal activity isn’t on the list,” he shot back smoothly, and I was equally stunned and amused and interested and afraid… and distracted.
I pointedly cleared my throat. “Excuse me. I do have an actual reason for calling you, Detective DuCanto, though I would like to know how you found out about my ticket, since the last time I heard, you weren’t connected to the traffic division.”
“I’m not. But Rogo is a name that still attracts a little attention around here, and Len Sanders mentioned you’d been zipping along like an Indy driver.”
“Not true!”
“Forty-eight in a thirty?”    
I had to laugh. “Okay, I was speeding, though in my defense I didn’t know how fast I was going. I was trying to get home to Emmy.”
Ray laughed too. “Your defense is you didn’t know how fast you were going? Hang on while I nominate you for Parent of the Year.”
Okay, smartass,” I said firmly. “Do you want my question or not?”
I could almost see him leaning back now, enjoying himself completely. “I’ll take anything you have to offer,” he said in a drawl.
Images, oh images. I beat them back with a big ole mental stick.






















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