Simply Lies: A Psychological Thriller

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There was a large dining room fully, if incompatibly, outfitted with Baroque pieces and a Chippendale sideboard. Gibson had become something of an expert about such things while hunting the assets of the rich and shifty over the last couple years. On the walls were oil paintings mostly consisting of colonial scenery and waterfront landscapes. She didn’t think they were originals, From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The 6:20 Man comes a twisting new psychological thriller in which two women—one a former detective, the other a dangerous con artist—go head-to-head in an electrifying game of cat and mouse. Gibson paused for a moment and tossed the ball again so she could remove Tommy’s index finger from her right eye. Nimbly catching the ball, she said, “Larkin’s probably already regretting not burying those funds deeper, offshoring them in the Cook Islands or laundering them beyond our reach.” As she continued to try to control her gyrating son, she added, “I’ve also already provided the evidentiary trail to the creditors’ lead bankruptcy lawyers and they’re following up, too. The wire rooms are closed in Zurich and Chad, but they’re still running in Bermuda. So you need to hit this hard and you need to hit it fast.” While Baldacci is usually an excellent storyteller, this story is convoluted, long-winded, and frankly a bit boring. The characters are quite well developed, but they are not exciting, and there were several times that it got mundane to the point of putting the book down for good. There are several sub-plots that aren’t really necessary. Baldacci fans are used to his ability to tie the sub-plots together; that doesn’t happen in this novel. In fact, after the dénouement, the book seems to be like an Energizer bunny and keeps on going, and going, and going ad nauseum with a sappy conclusion.

Gibson steered her mommy van south down Interstate 64 East, and then worked her way through surface roads to US 17 that sling-shotted her across the burly James River. Next, she turned north, passing through what had once been the hog-slaughtering Gibson said, “That part I know very well. It was before my time, but the firm has never forgotten it. It’s part of the company lore. They even tell it to you during orientation as a warning sign against complacency and not going the extra mile.” Gibson had been across the Bay Bridge-Tunnel a few times and had never cared for the experience. It was over seventeen miles long, with artificial islands built along the route, and the bridge seemed to disappear right into the middle of the bay where the road entered the tunnels. It was like the highway was executing a suicidal dive into the water, taking all traffic with it. Gibson walked over to one section of shelves to look at a large vase placed there when she felt something on her ankles.One day she gets a call from another ProEye representative, working with Gibson’s boss, requesting Gibson to complete a new assignment that just came up. Gibson is asked to go inventory the home and assets of an arms dealer that just took off after cheating other ProEye clients. Once Gibson arrives at the old mansion out in the country, and starts inspecting, she discovers a secret room., and then a dead body to go with it. A twisting new psychological thriller in which two women—one a former detective, the other a dangerous con artist—go head-to-head in an electrifying game of cat and mouse. The baby monitor was on the shelf. All she could hear right now was gentle breathing, and a series of small snores that she knew came from Tommy. She let out her own long breath and wondered if their usual one-hour nap timeline would hold today. The one predictable component of motherhood, she had found, was that no two days were ever alike. This is a little unusual. I usually do my sleuthing on the internet.” “I know. That’s most of what ProEye does, as you know. But this

They want you to go there and take an inventory of the home’s contents. The file says that there’s a house key under a statue of a cat near the front entrance, if you can believe that.” She might eventually find someone else to spend her life with, but right now that did not seem likely at all. Why? Because what Peter Gibson had robbed her most of, and it was a lengthy list, was trust. Trust in men and, even worse, trust in herself. She snagged a flashlight from her van, because, as large as the house was, it would be dark in some places, regardless of the light outside. And the current owner?” asked Gibson, who was wondering what she was going to wear on this field trip. Please, make it Arlene. Here’s the thing, and it’s a little different but I was told to call and run it past you.”

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He cleaned the bank accounts, ran off with his secretary, and left her with the bills. She lost the house, had to leave her job with the force, and moved to Williamsburg, VA, where her retired parents lived. Well, time apparently caught up to Novak. Everything has now gone belly-up in the last couple of months.” Gibson looked at her son, whose expression told her all she needed to know. She ran for it and reached the toilet just in time to hold him over the bowl while simultaneously hitting a button on her headset to place the call on mute. Tommy managed somehow to miss the toilet completely and instead puked on the toilet paper holder and her pair of slippers. Gibson had left them there earlier after attempting to use the bathroom. Then she’d heard a crash somewhere and found Tommy sitting on the kitchen floor, covered with most of the wet dirt from a potted plant. She’d stripped the boy and thrown his clothes directly into the washing machine. Gibson had wanted to toss him in, too, only she didn’t relish a visit from Child Services. But she’d forgotten the slippers. And her urge to pee.

This is the 48th book by this author that I've read. I've read more of his books than those of any other author. I am a huge fan. BUT...of late, he has been a solid 3 stars. David Baldacci has been writing since childhood, when his mother gave him a lined notebook in which to write down his stories. (Much later, when David thanked her for being the spark that ignited his writing career, she revealed that she’d given him the notebook to keep him quiet, "because every mom needs a break now and then.”)Even though SIMPLY LIES was not as EPIC as The 6:20 Man, overall, was an entertaining read. You cannot go wrong with Baldacci—a big fan; he always surprises you! Not only does the arms dealer not exist but the murder victim turns out to be Harry Lancaster, a man with mob ties who used to be in Witness Protection. What’s more, no one named Arlene Robinson works at ProEye. And maybe I’ll find some British ghosts living in the old mansion. She slowed as she saw the stone monuments on either side of a driveway. The plaque on one of the monuments read: Stormfield.