The Bone Shroud by Jean Rabe
Irem Madigan’s wedding trip to Rome turns into a desperate search for an archaeological prize, and a struggle to stay ahead of a killer.
Set in and under Rome, The Bone Shroud is a love story wrapped in a perilous relic-hunt.
Irem flies to Italy to be the “best man” in her brother’s wedding. He’s marrying an archaeologist bent on revealing the graves of some famous ancient dead. Irem, an archivist at the Chicago Field Museum, becomes obsessed with the centuries-old mysteries.
Unfortunately, Irem discovers there are other players in the game, and some of them are playing deadly. Can she survive and uncover the ancient secrets?
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“Intrigue, romance, and danger amid the relics of Rome’s storied past, with compelling characters and building tension that will keep you turning pages!” Gail Z. Martin, bestselling author of Vendetta
“Strong characters, shady dealings, ruthless villains, a beautiful setting, an ancient mystery–The Bone Shroud has ’em all. Don’t miss it!” New York Times bestselling Richard Baker, author of Valiant Dust
Author’s Bio
Jean Rabe is the author of three dozen novels published by small and major presses, has been on the USA Today bestseller’s list, and is a former crime reporter. Jean lives in a tiny town in central Illinois that boasts a gas station, Dollar General, and a pizza place with slow service. She writes with dogs wrapped around her feet while listening to the “music” of passing trains. She is active on Facebook and Twitter, blogs, and maintains a website: jeanrabe.com. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, the International Thriller Writers, and the International Association of Media Tie-In Writers.
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My Review
5 stars
Irem Madigan is in Rome to celebrate her brother, Levant’s wedding to archeologist Benito. But Benito has almost deciphered the clues and is a stone’s throw away from discovering the tomb of Attila the Hun. He believes Attila’s shroud could lead to graves of other people. But he is not the only one looking for Attila’s tomb. Many others want to reach it first and will do anything to make sure that no one else gets in their way.
This is a fast paced, adventure from the start. I loved the location and the description. I could feel myself in the dank, tombs alone side Irem. But this is not just a cut and dry, follow the clues and find the prize kind of story. Who is Benito really? When Irem sees him making a shady deal and finds herself being shot at it’s easy to see how Benito might not be the perfect person Levant has come to love.
This is a great story that is just as good as Dan Brown or Clive Cussler. If you like the scavenger hunt through time with so much more added, look no further. The Bone Shroud is the book for you.
I received a complimentary copy of this book. I voluntarily chose to read and post an honest review.
I would like to thank Let’s Talk Promotions for the opportunity to read and share this book.
GIVEAWAY!
The tour giveaway is for a 25.00 gift certificate or a fused glass necklace.
Excerpt: The Bone Shroud
“Benito says that piece was a funeral wrap, like the Shroud of Turin. He uncovered it months and months and months ago, but it took a while in preservation and restoration. Longer than it should have because of the restorer’s death.”
Irem’s curiosity tugged her toward it and she snapped a few more photos. “Death?”
“It is oddly beautiful, don’t you think?”
“Death?” she repeated.
“The restorer died of a heart attack a few days after starting work on it. Lovely woman, seventy or seventy-one, I believe, said she never wanted to retire. In a sad way she got her wish. Her husband died driving home from her funeral, a car accident. Benito wonders if it was suicide, as the husband was so inconsolable at the services. Some of the museum staff say it is cursed, the shroud.” He looked to the doorway as a trio of women came in. “The museum had to bring in a new expert to finish the restoration.”
“And that new restorer—”
“He’s still breathing,” Levent returned. Then he brightened: “My Benito, he is remarkable, isn’t he? Davvero bravo! These finds? That tapestry, the sculptures? And he cooks. He’s making a special cake for our wedding reception, a small one just for the wedding party. The wine—”
“—is being catered by me.” The bald man who’d been studying the tapestry turned and extended a hand to Levent. “Buona sera, Mr. Kartal-Madigan. Good to see you again. Have you tried the vintage tonight?”
Irem winced. Kartal-Madigan? Their last name was Madigan. Their mother’s maiden name was Kartal. She supposed Kartal-Madigan sounded exotic, something an artist would embrace.
“Magnifico, Mr. Shamoon, as always.” Levent shook the man’s hand. “Irem, this is Benito’s chief patron, Mr. Hamadi Shamoon. Mr. Shamoon, this is my sister, Irem, from Chicago.”
“It is always a pleasure to make the acquaintance of a beautiful woman, Signorina Kartal-Madigan.” The man’s voice was silk. The name, the color of his skin, and his features, she guessed he was Egyptian, and she put him in his mid-fifties. He took Irem’s hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “You are here for the wedding?”
“Yes.”
He had a working man’s hands, the fingertips rough. He took a polite step back. The slight woman who’d been gazing at the cloth smiled wider. Young, plain-looking, no makeup, her only jewelry a simple cross on a long silver chain. Maybe his daughter.
“Irem. That is Turkish, correct? It means ‘garden in heaven,’ I believe,” Hamadi said.
She nodded, surprised. “My mother is Turkish, my father Irish. My mother loves flowers—”
“And hence, your beautiful name.”
“The wine is just as my brother says, Mr. Shamoon. Exquisite,” Irem said.
“Then you must come to my winery and sample more. I will personally give you a tour. My vineyard is God’s gift to Italy.” Hamadi looked over his shoulder, one more glance at the ornate cloth. “I must leave now for an appointment.”
Irem took another picture of the quartet as they retreated.
Irem glided closer to the cloth. “I’ve seen burial shrouds before, Lev.”
“All the mummies at the Field and—”
“The mummies didn’t have burial shrouds. Never seen a shroud quite like this. Where did Benito—”
“—find it? Underground somewhere.”
Irem took Levent’s picture next to the shroud.
“Underground, wrapped around a body,” Irem softly mused. “Who might have been buried in something so interesting?”
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