Saturday Sampler: The Radio Murders by Kelly Marshall



In our mission to connect readers, writers, and books, Caleb and Linda Pirtle has launched a new series featuring writing samples from some of the best authors in the marketplace today. Saturday’s Sampler is an excerpt from The Love Songs Murders, a novel of mystery and suspense by Kelly Marshall.

As one reviewer said: Kelly Marshall has written an intriguing story of obsession, kidnapping, murder, and love.

The Story

In the calm, dead air, the lonely listeners waited for what the late night radio host would play next. They rode on every word she spoke, every song she played, luring the police in for the fools that they were.

Her victims of the night fell into her trance. “Jasmine James,” she said with her lust-filled voice. The two who had been running the streets were mesmerized by her song and prepared themselves for her number one hit.


The Sampler

Kelly Marshall
Kelly Marshall

Jasmine James opened the door wearing a sheer linen mini-dress and little else. She held a glass of red wine casually in her left hand. Nick smiled in shocked appreciation. He swallowed hard.  “Hello. I‘m Nick Winston.”‖ He flashed his badge.  “I understand you had a problem earlier this evening.”‖

Jasmine brushed her hair back from her forehead.  “Come in, officer.”‖ She closed the door and motioned for Nick to follow her into the living room.  “I think it‘s just a sick listener. But I‘ve been getting these letters. Obsessed fan letters. And then this guy shows up as I‘m leaving the station this evening. It freaked me out. He screamed at me and pounded on my car window.”‖

Nick watched the tall, sensuous woman glide into the living room. Her voice sounded soothing, erotic, like satin on skin. Now he realized who this gorgeous babe was. Jasmine James. The Love Songs Lady.

He had seen her face plastered on the side of Metro buses. Dark, free-falling hair, electric eyes made deep blue by contact technology. He couldn‘t force his eyes away from the stunning figure in the revealing dress. Nick felt the heat rising in his groin. He tried desperately to keep his mind from descending into animal mode. He concentrated on a spot on the wall and said out loud, “Ah, er, that‘s Detective Winston.”‖ He regretted it as soon as he said it.  “Ah, Nick, will do just fine.”‖

She smiled demurely. He knew this woman undoubtedly had been making men uncomfortable since she was a barely pubescent thirteen. “All right, Nick.”‖ Jasmine turned and gracefully sat down on the couch. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric and he found himself staring. Christ! Was his mouth open? He slammed it shut. She caught his look and smiled, this time seductively.

Taking a notebook and pen out of his inner jacket pocket, he swallowed hard and prepared to take notes.  “What did this guy look like?”

“It all happened so fast and I was frightened. I don‘t remember him being very tall or short.”‖

“Average height?”‖

“Yes. I‘d say that. He‘s fair. His hair, I don‘t know whether you‘d call it a dark blonde or light brown. But it‘s a washed out kind of color.‖

Nick nervously clicked his pen.  “Do you recall what his car looked like?”

“I really don‘t remember. The creep rushed towards me. That‘s all I recall seeing. The car could have been there, but I‘m drawing a blank. Sorry.”‖

“Shock, fear, anger, any of those strong emotions can stymie memory. You might remember something later. Can I see those fan letters?”

“Well, I don‘t have them here. They‘re at the station, of course. If you come by KLOV tomorrow evening, you can have them all. I certainly don‘t want them. Although, I have saved them for just this reason. I never know when one of my listeners is going to go sideways and be a real problem.”‖

“Has this happened before?”

“There are a lot of lonely people. They reach out to connect with me.”‖ Jasmine shrugged her pale shoulders.

“Ever been hurt by one of those lonely people?”


Nick didn‘t want to leave. Everything about Jasmine James intoxicated him. Her voice continued to relax every muscle in his body except one. Her perfume smelled subtle, sweet, inviting. Her dark hair draped over her breasts and the contrast with her white dress was impossible not to look at and appreciate. He kept glancing away. His ears felt as hot as his crotch.

“I‘ll make it a point to come by tomorrow evening. Should I come before you go on the air?”‖

“Sixish would be perfect, Detective.”‖ She smiled as she emphasized Detective.

He grinned again.  “Remember, it‘s Nick, Miss James.”

“My friends call me Jazz. Tomorrow, then?”

He nodded agreement unable to trust his voice.

She breathed a goodbye as she slowly closed the door on the still grinning detective.

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