Deck the Halls
3/5
()
About this ebook
Three days before Christmas, Regan Reilly, the dynamic young sleuth featured in the novels of Carol Higgins Clark, accidentally meets Alvirah Meehan, Mary Higgins Clark’s famous lottery winner and amateur detective, at a New Jersey dentist’s office. That's where it all begins.
While Regan’s mother, Nora, the famous mystery writer, is in the hospital with a broken leg, her husband, Luke, and his chauffeur, Rosita, are kidnapped and held for a million-dollar ransom. Together, Regan and Alvirah track the case as the inept yet dangerous kidnappers make their demands known. Meanwhile, Luke and Rosita are held captive on a houseboat on the Hudson River and a fierce winter storm is gathering force.
A true Christmas classic, Deck the Halls blends suspense with poignancy, laugh-out-loud humor, and all-around holiday cheer.
Mary Higgins Clark
The #1 New York Times bestselling author Mary Higgins Clark wrote over forty suspense novels, four collections of short stories, a historical novel, a memoir, and two children’s books. With bestselling author Alafair Burke she wrote the Under Suspicion series including The Cinderella Murder, All Dressed in White, The Sleeping Beauty Killer, Every Breath You Take, You Don’t Own Me, and Piece of My Heart. With her daughter Carol Higgins Clark, she coauthored five suspense novels. More than one hundred million copies of her books are in print in the United States alone. Her books are international bestsellers.
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Reviews for Deck the Halls
191 ratings11 reviews
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Easy-reading mystery/suspense combining characters from each author's individual works.
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5Every year around Christmas time I like to pick a book with a Christmas theme with a fast pace and to help me get into the spirit of the holidays.I picked the first book on my shelf that looked like it was a Christmas book. I was pleased that I noticed the title, Deck the Halls. I so looked forward to cuddle up with this book.I was disappointed. This was not a Christmas book. I don't recall anything about decking any halls. It was a murder mystery that happened to be taken place at Christmas. I never got the feeling of holiday or celebration. 98% of the time I finish a book whether I enjoy it or not, hoping that it will get better. I did read it to the end, but maybe I should have found a book that was more fitting than this one for the holidays.
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5Lets talk about Plastic. That is what this book is about. At least, everything in this book smells, acts and even looks like plastic. For those of you who are squeemish about bad reviews, please read no further. This review author is not responsible for any angry emotional outbursts by you, the reader of this review.
It seems that the two authors got together and put their respective heroines from other works together to solve a yule tide kidnapping. The main characters here are Regan Reilly and Alvirah Meehan. Two suppossedly super-slueths that are able to crack any mystery. The basis of this particular novel is that Regan's father Luke and his Chauffeur Rosita (Yes you heard that right, Hispanic Women should protest vehemently) get kidnapped two days before Christmas. All this while Luke's wife, Regan's mother, the famous novelist, Nora Reilly is in the hospital.
OK, where do I begin. First off Nora Reilly. She is in the hospital because she broke her leg. Yeah, like that's believable. In at least the last 20 years since the insurance companies took over healthcare, you break your leg, you go to emergency out-patient services, they cast it...you go home! None of this two to three day extended stay stuff. "Well Flyinfox, how did she break her legs? Were there complications?" No, she broke her leg tripping over a rug...yeah you read that right, tripping over a rug! Does that smell like plastic to you?
As expected, the bad guys one CB Dingle (Cuthbert Bonaface Dingle...who chose these names?) and Petey Commet were both evil and stupid. Petey was used for obvious comic relief because no one...and I mean no one who attempt to ransom some one else for a million dollars can be that stupid. Not to give the story away but...wait a minute, there really is no story here so I will just go ahead and say it. During the ransom pick up, Petey loses the million dollars that was in the duffle bag in the East River because he slipped and fell out of his boat as he was trying to give it a good-bye kiss. (Can you taste the plastic yet?) Why else were these characters stupid? Because they decided to follow the kidnapping pattern that was outlined in one of Nora Reilly's famous mystery novels. Here...let me skip to the end and catch these guys.
I guess that Alvirah Meehan was poor in the Mary Higgins Clark Novels because here, in order to have anything in common with these people that she was dealing with, she had to win the $40 million dollar lottery....otherwise she is just a poor schmo who knows her way in and out of bargain department stores.
The ending? What do you think? Of course the crooks got caught. Of course the money was safe. Of course everyone in the story descended on the Reilly home for a Merry Christmas. And of course all the loose ends were tied up at the end. As I said before, the story is plastic, the characters are plastic, the turn of events are plastic. "Gee Flyinfox, aren't you being a little harsh with this review?" Yes, I am offending the Plastic. At least plastic serves a purpose. I read this book to have something to release at the december meetup. I am kind of embarrased to have anyone take this off my hands. Its only redeeming qualities are that it is a short read and as enjoyable as bubble gum. But let the reader beware, once the flavor of the gum leaves you...spit it out! - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5A good little Christmas detective story.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Mary Higgins Clark and her daughter, Carol Higgins Clark, combine their talents in a new mystery series featuring the collaboration of the two writers’ lead characters – Alvirah Mehan, former cleaning lady who won the lottery and is now an amateur sleuth, and Regan Reilly, daughter of a famous mystery writer and a licensed private investigator. Regan’s mom, mystery writer Nora Reilly, sustains a broken leg in a household accident. Her hospitalization just three days before Christmas makes news, and gives a couple of kidnappers the perfect opportunity to nab Regan’s father, Luke Reilly. This is an interesting and fun mystery. Of course, the reader always knows who the culprit is, but it’s fun to watch the police, Regan and Alvirah arrive at the solution. They have plenty of suspects and follow several wrong leads, but I found their thought process as they examined various clues and red herrings interesting. I’ve never read anything by either of these authors before, so the characters were completely new to me. But I never felt lost and the way they come together seemed plausible. I also thought the writing was seamless; I certainly couldn’t tell if one section was written by Mary and another by Carol. All told, this is a quick, entertaining cozy with a satisfying ending. I think I’ll have to read something by each of these authors in the future.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5A very quick, entertaining read in true Carol Higgins Clark style. A fun way to add some holiday mystery to the season.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I really enjoyed reading this and it kept my interest throughout.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I read " A Christmas Thief" just a few weeks ago. I should have waited a little bit longer to read this one. For me the criminals in the this one were too similar to the criminals in " A Christmas Thief". Bumbling, inept and silly. While at times they were funny, other times it just fell flat. Luke is kidnapped while Nora is in the hospital recovering from a broken leg. Luke and his driver, Rosita, are being held for a million dollar ransom. Regan, Alvirah, Willy, and Jack all work to find Luke and Rosita. Alvirah's role was really weird in this one. She chased down a red herring, and butted into the whole affair as usual, but her role was really toned down. I missed her involvement and narrative. The story wasn't really all that bad. In keeping with holiday traditions of their past novels, the authors opted for non-violence, very light holiday reading suitable for all ages. Overall a C-
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I have read all the other Christmas mysteries this mother daughter team has written and thought I had read this one since it is the first but I hadn't. So this is the first meeting of Alvirah (Mary Higgins Clark’s lottery winner turned amateur sleuth) and Regan Reilly (Carol Higgins Clark's PI from her books). This is a cozy Christmas mystery that I enjoyed maybe not as much as the future books they would write together but it was good none the less.The characters are fun especially Alvirah, she is quite a character! The one thing I found interesting was the red herrings were only for the characters because we as readers knew who kidnapped Regan’s father right from the beginning. It was a good book that I would recommend to fans of either of these authors and those who enjoy a cozy mystery.3 stars
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This is the story of Luke Rielly andRosita his driver getting kidnapped, while his wife Nora a author of mystery books is in the hospital with a broken leg... and of course Alvirah Meehan is on the case right along with Ragan the Riellly's daughter , a PI in California. They go thru a few leads and all is well on Christmas eve when they are rescued
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5I wanted to give this author a chance... This book brings together alot of characters from her other books. I found the book vague and superficial to the point of giving up 2/3 of the way through the book.
Book preview
Deck the Halls - Mary Higgins Clark
Get into the holiday spirit with acclaimed Christmas novels from
MARY HIGGINS CLARK and CAROL HIGGINS CLARK
DECK THE HALLS
In their first collaboration, mother and daughter have produced a holiday confection.
—The New York Times Book Review
Mary Higgins Clark and daughter Carol Higgins Clark create a winning detective duo by teaming up favorite characters from their own respective novels. . . . An entertaining . . . Christmas treat.
—People
Fans will greatly enjoy the pairing of two favorite detectives—and two popular writers—in a Christmas ornament of a book.
—Publishers Weekly
For fans of either of the Clarks, this book is a real treat.
—Bookreporter.com
Some delightful Dickensian characters.
—Providence Sunday Journal (RI)
The authors have created a wonderfully unique cast of characters.
—The Pilot (Southern Pines, NC)
HE SEES YOU WHEN YOU’RE SLEEPING
A cheerful holiday tale.
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
These bestselling authors blend suspense with a heartwarming story. . . .
—Atlanta Constitution
"A new spin on It’s a Wonderful Life . . ."
—Los Angeles Times
Consume in one sitting with a tumbler of hot mulled wine.
—San Antonio Express-News
Blends suspense and redemption.
—The Virginian-Pilot
A combination of slapstick and suspense [that] turns out to also be a tale of redemption and insightful observations on how our society has changed in forty-six years.
—Toronto Star
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
Deck the Halls, by Mary Higgins Clark and Carol Higgins Clark, Simon & SchusterContents
Acknowledgments
Thursday, December 22nd
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Friday, December 23rd
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Saturday, December 24th
Chapter 47
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
‘No Place Like Home’ Excerpt
About Mary Higgins Clark and Carol Higgins Clark
In the spirit of this shared journey,
we, Mary and Carol,
are dedicating this book to each other
with love.
Acknowledgments
Now that the tale is told, we are frequently asked, Was it hard to work together?
The answer is No.
It was fun. By the time we got to the closing pages, we were so in tandem that if we were searching for a descriptive word, we often would come out with the same one in the same breath.
Of course the journey was made smoother by the help and encouragement of others.
And so we joyfully deck the halls for our editors, Michael Korda, Chuck Adams, and Roz Lippel.
A glittering ornament for Lisl Cade, our publicist.
Silvery garlands for Associate Director of Copyediting Gypsy da Silva, copy editor Carol Catt, proofreaders Barbara Raynor and Steve Friedeman, and at Dix!, Account Executive Kelly Farley, keyboarder Dwayne Harris, and proofreader Barbara Decker.
Candy canes for our agents Gene Winick, Sam Pinkus, and Nick Ellison.
A cup of cheer for our law enforcement experts, Sgt. Steve Marron and Detective Richard Murphy, Ret., New York District Attorney’s Office.
A holiday kiss for Santa’s helpers, better known as our family and friends, especially John Conheeney, Irene Clark, Agnes Newton, and Nadine Petry.
And a holiday greeting to our readers. May your days be merry and bright.
God bless . . .
Thursday,
December 22nd
Regan Reilly sighed for the hundredth time as she looked down at her mother, Nora, a brand-new patient in Manhattan’s Hospital for Special Surgery. And to think I bought you that dopey crocheted rug you tripped on,
she said.
You only bought it. I caught my heel in it,
the well-known mystery writer said wanly. It wasn’t your fault I was wearing those idiotic stilts.
Nora attempted to shift her body, which was anchored by a heavy plaster cast that reached from her toes to her thigh.
I’ll leave you two to assess the blame for the broken leg,
Luke Reilly, owner of three funeral homes, husband and father, observed as he hoisted his long, lean body from the low bedside armchair. I’ve got a funeral to go to, a dentist’s appointment, and then, since our Christmas plans are somewhat altered, I guess I’d better see about buying a tree.
He bent over and kissed his wife. Look at it this way: you may not be gazing at the Pacific Ocean, but you’ve got a good view of the East River.
He and Nora and their only child, thirty-one-year-old Regan, had been planning to spend the Christmas holiday on Maui.
You’re a scream,
Nora told him. Dare we hope you’ll arrive home with a tree that isn’t your usual Charlie Brown special?
That’s not nice,
Luke protested.
But it’s true.
Nora dismissed the subject. Luke, you look exhausted. Can’t you skip Goodloe’s funeral? Austin can take care of everything.
Austin Grady was Luke’s right-hand man. He had handled hundreds of funerals on his own, but the one today was different. The deceased, Cuthbert Boniface Goodloe, had left the bulk of his estate to the Seed-Plant-Bloom-and-Blossom Society of the Garden State of New Jersey. His disgruntled nephew and partial namesake, Cuthbert Boniface Dingle, known as C.B., was obviously bitter about his meager inheritance. After viewing hours yesterday afternoon, C.B. had sneaked back to the casket where Luke had found him stuffing rotted bits of house plants in the sleeves of the pin-striped designer suit the fastidious Goodloe had chosen as his last outfit.
As Luke came up behind C.B., he heard him whispering, You love plants? I’ll give you plants, you senile old hypocrite. Get a whiff of these! Enjoy them from now until Resurrection Day!
Luke had backed away, not wanting to confront C.B., who continued to vent verbal outrage at the body of his less-than-generous uncle. It was not the first time Luke had heard a mourner telling off the deceased, but the use of decaying foliage was a first. Later, Luke had quietly removed the offensive vegetation. But today, he wanted to keep an eye on C.B. himself. Besides, he hadn’t had a chance to mention the incident to Austin.
Luke considered telling Nora about the nephew’s bizarre behavior, but then decided not to go into it. Goodloe’s been planning his own funeral with me for three years,
he said instead. If I didn’t show up, he’d haunt me.
I suppose you should go.
Nora’s voice was sleepy, and her eyes were starting to close. Regan, why don’t you let Dad drop you off at the apartment? The last painkiller they gave me is knocking me out.
I’d rather hang around until your private nurse gets here,
Regan said. I want to make sure someone is with you.
All right. But then go to the apartment and crash. You know you never sleep on the red-eye flight.
Regan, a private investigator who lived in Los Angeles, had been packing for the trip to Hawaii when her father phoned.
Your mother’s fine,
he began. But she’s had an accident. She broke her leg.
She broke her leg?
Regan had repeated.
Yes. We were on our way to a black tie at the Plaza. Mom was one of the honorees. She was running a little late. I rang for the elevator . . .
One of Dad’s not very subtle ways of getting Mom to hurry up, Regan thought.
The elevator arrived, but she didn’t. I went back into the apartment and found her lying on the floor with her leg at a very peculiar angle. But you know your mother. Her first question was to ask if her gown was torn.
That would be Mom, Regan had thought affectionately.
She was the best-dressed emergency-room patient in the history of the hospital,
Luke had concluded.
Regan had dumped her Hawaii clothes out of the suitcase and replaced them with winter clothes suitable for New York. She barely made the last night flight from Los Angeles to Kennedy, and once in New York had paused only long enough to drop off her bags at her parents’ apartment on Central Park South.
From the doorway of the hospital room, Luke looked back and smiled at the sight of the two women in his life, so alike in some ways with their classic features, blue eyes, and fair skin, but so different in others. From the Black Irish Reillys, Regan had inherited raven black hair, a throwback to the Spaniards who had settled in Ireland after their Armada had been destroyed in battle with the British. Nora, however, was a natural blonde, and at five feet three inches was four inches shorter than her daughter. At six feet five, Luke towered over both of them. His once-dark hair was now almost completely silver.
Regan, I’ll meet you back here at around seven,
he said. After we cheer your mother up, we’ll go out and have a good dinner.
He caught Nora’s expression and smiled at her. You thrive on the urge to kill, honey. All the reviewers say so.
He waved his hand. See you girls tonight.
It was a commitment Luke would not be able to keep.
Across town, apartment 16B at 211 Central Park South was in the process of being decorated for Christmas. Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Alvirah Meehan sang, off-key, as she placed a miniature wreath around the framed picture of Willy and herself accepting the $40 million lottery check that had changed their lives forever.
The picture brought back vividly that magical evening three years ago, when she’d been sitting in their tiny living room in Flushing, Queens, and Willy had been half asleep in his old club chair. She had been soaking her feet in a pail of warm water after a hard day of cleaning Mrs. O’Keefe’s house when Willy came home, really bushed, from repairing a burst pipe that had sent showers of rusty water on the newly pressed clothes at Spot-Free Dry Cleaners down the block. Then the announcer on television began to read the winning lottery numbers.
I sure look different now, Alvirah thought, shaking her head as she examined the picture. The brassy red hair that for so many years she had dyed herself in the bathroom sink had been transformed by Madame Judith, to a soft golden red with subtle shadings. The purple polyester pants suit had long ago been banished by her classy friend, Baroness Min Von Schreiber. Of course, her jutting jaw was the same, a product of God’s design when he molded her, but she’d gotten down from a size sixteen to a trimmer size fourteen. There was no question about it—she looked ten years younger and a thousand times better now than in the old days.
I was sixty then and looked like I was pushing seventy. Now I’m sixty-three and don’t look a day over fifty-nine, she told herself happily. On the other hand, she decided, looking at the picture, even dressed in that bargain-basement blue suit and skinny little tie, Willy managed to look handsome and distinguished. With his shock of white hair and vivid blue eyes, Willy always reminded people of the late, legendary Speaker of the House of Representatives, Tip O’Neill.
Poor Willy, she sighed. What bad luck that he feels so rotten. Nobody should be stuck with a toothache during the Christmas season. But Dr. Jay will fix him up. Our big mistake was to get involved with that other guy when Dr. Jay moved to New Jersey, Alvirah thought. He talked Willy into getting a dental implant even though it hadn’t worked last time, and it’s been killing him. Oh, well, it could be worse, she reminded herself. Look what happened to Nora Regan Reilly.
She had heard on the radio that the suspense author, who happened to be her favorite writer, had broken her leg the evening before in her apartment in the very next building. Her high heel had caught in the fringe of a rug, Alvirah mused—the same kind of thing that happened to Grandma. But Grandma wasn’t wearing high heels. She had stepped on a wad of bubble gum in the street, and when the fringe of the rug stuck to the bottom of her orthopedic sneakers, she went sprawling.
Hi, honey.
Willy was coming down the hall from the bedroom. The right side of his face was swollen, and his expression was instant testimony to the fact that the troublesome implant was still killing him.
Alvirah knew how to cheer him up. Willy, you know what makes me feel good?
Whatever it is, share it right away.
It’s knowing that Dr. Jay will get rid of that implant, and by tonight you’ll be feeling much better. I mean, aren’t you better off than poor Nora Regan Reilly, who’ll be hobbling around on crutches for weeks?
Willy shook his head and managed a smile. Alvirah, can I never have an ache or a pain without you telling me how lucky I am? If I came down with the bubonic plague, you’d try to make me feel sorry for somebody else.
Alvirah laughed. I suppose I would at that,
she agreed.
When you ordered the car, did you allow for holiday traffic? I never thought I’d be worried about missing a dentist appointment, but today I am.
Of course I did,
she assured him. We’ll be there long before three. Dr. Jay squeezed you in before he sees his last patient. He’s closing early for the holiday weekend.
Willy looked at his watch. It’s only a little after ten. I wish he could see me this minute. What time is the car cc$$$ g?
One-thirty.
I’ll start to get ready.
With a sympathetic shake of her head, Alvirah watched her husband of forty-three years disappear back into the bedroom. He’ll be feeling a thousand percent better tonight, she decided. I’ll make some nice vegetable soup for dinner, and we’ll watch the tape of It’s a Wonderful Life. I’m glad we delayed our cruise until February. It will be good to have a quiet, at-home Christmas this year.
Alvirah looked around the room and sniffed appreciatively. I love the smell of pine, she thought. And the tree looks gorgeous. They had placed it right in the center of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. The branches were laden with the ornaments they’d accumulated over the years, some handsome, some battered, all cherished. Alvirah pushed back her large, round glasses, walked over to the cocktail table, and grabbed the last unopened box of tinsel.
You never can have too much tinsel on the tree,
she said aloud.
Three more days until Christmas, twenty-six-year-old Rosita Gonzalez thought, as she waited for Luke Reilly behind the wheel of one of the Reilly Funeral Home limos, standing near the hospital’s Seventy-first Street entrance. Mentally she reviewed the presents she had bought for her five- and six-year-old sons, Bobby and Chris. I haven’t forgotten anything,