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Pamela Barnes Acoustic Mysteries by Patricia Rockwell | Book Tour | Cozy Mystery

Pamela Barnes Acoustic Mysteries by Patricia Rockwell is on virtual book tour.  The cozy mystery stops at Readeropolis with ...

Pamela Barnes Acoustic Mysteries by Patricia Rockwell is on virtual book tour. 

The cozy mystery stops at Readeropolis with an excerpt from VOICE MAIL MURDER.

Be sure to enter for a chance to win the giveaway for a 2 paperback books of choice from the series (1 winner - US only) or a $10 Amazon GC (1 winner - WW) and follow the Silver Dagger book tour (for other dates see the link at the bottom of the post).

Sounds of Murder
Pamela Barnes Acoustic Mysteries Book 1
by Patricia Rockwell
Genre: Cozy Mystery

SOUNDS OF MURDER tells a tale of academic intrigue and death. At Grace University, a small southern college, no one in the Psychology Department likes Charlotte Clark, so no one is particularly upset when she is found murdered in the department’s million-dollar computer lab. But because she discovered the body, Associate Professor Pamela Barnes feels obligated to find Charlotte’s killer. When she discovers a recording of the murder that was accidentally produced during Charlotte’s struggle with the killer, she begins her own investigation.

Along the way, Pamela agonizes with her own conscience as she fights her growing fear. She attempts to understand her mysterious Department Chair, keep her curious colleagues informed, placate her protective husband, and avoid antagonizing a local rube detective who belittles her efforts--all while she struggles to make sense of the sounds on the recording.

As she gets deeper and deeper into her analysis—trying to connect what she hears in the recording with sounds from people (and potential killers) around her--she gets closer and closer to the killer. However, the killer is observing Pamela’s efforts and resolving to stop her.

**Only 99 cents**

FM For Murder
Pamela Barnes Acoustic Mysteries Book 2

Who shot the disk jockey while he was on air? No one saw the killer, but many heard the murder on the radio. Local police are mystified and ask Psychology professor and acoustics expert Pamela Barnes to assist them in investigating the crime. Can she determine who shot the deejay just by listening to the radio station’s audio recording of the killing? And how does this crime connect to the impending death of a wealthy carpet manufacturer hundreds of miles away? And the driven behavior of his conscientious son who hides a very important secret? Unknown to Pamela, another thread of this strange mystery is about to unravel. Will she be able to solve it before another victim is claimed? 

In FM FOR MURDER, the second in Patricia Rockwell's acoustic mystery series, we follow feisty amateur sleuth Pamela Barnes who doesn’t let academic duties prevent her from fighting crime. And Pamela fights crime with the tools she knows best—sound waves.

Voice Mail Murder
Pamela Barnes Acoustic Mysteries Book 3

Sex! Knives! Voice Mail Messages!

Who stabbed the philandering football coach in the back? Was it one of the three women who left romantic voice mail messages on the cell phone found next to his body in the motel room?

The police don’t have a clue. None of the coach’s family, friends, or colleagues recognize the voices of the unidentified women--and probable mistresses. Who could they be? This sounds like a case for Pamela Barnes, local Psychology professor, acoustics expert, and sometimes amateur sleuth. Can she identify the three women (and potential murder suspects) from just the sound of their voices on the voice mail?

Who are these mystery women and how did the popular coach manage to conduct affairs with all of them unbeknownst to everyone around him? And how did he keep his trio of lovers from finding out about each other—or did he? It’s a tangled romantic web that ultimately led to murder and Pamela Barnes is determined to figure it out.

Stump Speech Murder
Pamela Barnes Acoustic Mysteries Book 4

James Grant, a young politician with everything going for him, including the most recent polls, gives a rousing stump speech in a local park. His campaign for mayor against the entrenched incumbent looks unstoppable. That is, until the police discover him standing over his wife’s dead body with the murder weapon in his hands.

It certainly looks as if James is guilty. But psychologist and acoustics expert Pamela Barnes has other ideas–and they include helping this young man prove his innocence and succeed in his bid for mayor. 

Can Pamela’s knowledge of sound help her find the real killer and exonerate James? Or will this young politician’s most recent stump speech be his last?

Murder in the Round
Pamela Barnes Acoustic Mysteries Book 5

A night out with her husband to watch her best friend perform in a local community theater “in-the-round” production surely shouldn’t be cause for amateur sleuth Pamela Barnes to use any of her acoustic detecting skills. But when one of the actresses collapses on stage and dies, Pamela finds herself in the thick of things. The recorder in her purse making an audio copy of the performance for another friend who couldn’t attend, may now prove important when it’s determined that the victim was poisoned. Do the sounds on the recording hold any clues to the identity of the murderer? It looks like Pamela is on the sound trail again, and she––and her pals in the Pyschology Department at Grace University––will not stop until they find the person who committed this murder in the round.

Patricia Rockwell is the author of the Pamela Barnes acoustic mystery series. This amateur sleuth solves crimes using her knowledge of sound. The series includes SOUNDS OF MURDER, FM FOR MURDER, VOICE MAIL MURDER, STUMP SPEECH MURDER, and MURDER IN THE ROUND. Her new series, Essie Cobb senior sleuth, features a 90-year-old assisted living facility resident who solves mysteries. The books in this series include BINGOED, PAPOOSED, VALENTINED, and GHOSTED. FIRECRACKERED, the fifth in the series, will launch on June 25, 2016.

Dr. Rockwell has spent most of her life teaching. From small liberal arts colleges to large regional research universities--and even a brief stint in a high school, her background in education is extensive. She has taught virtually everything related to Communication--from a fine arts speech-theatre orientation to more recently a social science research approach. Her Bachelors' and Masters' degrees are from the University of Nebraska in Speech and her Ph.D. is from the University of Arizona in Communication. She was on the faculty at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette for thirteen years, retiring in 2007.

Her publications are extensive, with over 20 peer-reviewed articles in scholarly journals, several textbooks, and a research book on her major interest area of sarcasm, published by Edwin Mellen Press. In addition to publications, she has presented numerous papers at academic conferences and served for eight years as Editor of the Louisiana Communication Journal. Her research focuses primarily on several areas of communication: deception, sarcasm, and vocal cues.

She is presently living in Aurora, Illinois, with her husband Milt, also a retired educator. The couple has two adult children.

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway!


Book #3 in the Pamela Barnes Acoustic Mysteries

Balancing on one foot after another, she slid on a pair of tan leather three-inch heels and pranced away from him. She picked up a small black leather book that lay beside the television set on the long dresser and opened it.  
“Same time, next week?” she asked as she ran her finger down a page.
“I’ll arrange something and call you,” he nodded, dutifully, laughing. He leaned back again on the bed and watched her final preparations. There was something totally engaging about watching a woman get dressed—not as engaging as watching her get undressed, he thought, but he liked to watch the ceremony of it all. Like locker room preparation.
“It’s easier for you than me!” she scolded him with a shake of a well-manicured fingertip, tucking the black book into the purse and placing the strap of the purse over her shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied.  “I have all this free time . . . ”  He gestured around the small motel room.
“You at least have more control of your time than I do,” she teased. “I’m at the mercy of . . . others!  You know that!” She headed towards the door.
“Be careful when you leave,” he said as she reached the door. She stopped abruptly.
“I always am,” she  whispered conspiratorially, leaning towards him. She smiled. “I don’t want to be seen any more than you do.” She opened the door, remaining slightly behind it and peered out carefully into the bright afternoon sunlight. After a second or two, she gave him a silent kiss, donned a pair of sunglasses, and slipped quietly out the door and disappeared from sight.
After she closed the door, the man stood up and stretched. He was exhausted but pleasantly so. He could easily take a nap—maybe a two or three hour nap. He could probably get away with it. No one really paid that much attention to his goings and comings—at least in the early afternoons. Even so, he couldn’t stay here indefinitely. Looking at his watch, he saw that he’d already spent over an hour with the woman. He needed to get going. He rose and ambled towards the bathroom, grabbing his shirt and trousers along the way. He slipped into his clothes and was just splashing water on his face as a sort of wake-up call when a knock on the door to the room caused him to freeze.
Was she back?  Did she forget something?  Must be. Or it could be the maid.
“Who is it?” he called out as he walked to the door. No response. Gingerly, he peered through the small glass peep hole. What the . . .? He pulled back sharply, flattening himself against the wall.
Another knock.
“I know you’re in there,” said a voice he recognized.
Double checking the peep hole, he realized that he was right. What was going on? Maybe it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Probably something totally innocuous, he told himself.  Carefully, he opened the door.
“Uh, hi.”  Play it cool.  
“What are you doing here?” asked the visitor at the door.
“What do you mean?”  he stammered. “I. . . I. . . was just trying to get away. You know, some privacy.” He could feel his face redden and a thin layer of sweat was beginning to form at his temples. The visitor moved closer to him, looking first directly into his eyes, and then, pointedly, inside the motel room.
“Privacy?”  asked the visitor.
“Yes, ah, yes. Sometimes, I really need to just get away for a while—be by myself.”
“You’re by yourself?” asked the visitor, with a slight smile.
“Sure.  Alone. You can see,”  the man answered, his arm gesturing towards the interior of the room.
“Why don’t I believe you?” The visitor pushed past the man and entered the room. The dark motel room contrasted sharply to the bright sunny day. As the visitor’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, the contents of the room became clear; the visitor could see the primary object in the small room—the king-sized bed, sheets rumpled.
“Doesn’t look like you were alone,” said the visitor, staring down at the bed—and the stained sheets.
“I was,” responded the man, closing the door. This was embarrassing. And this discussion was much too loud and likely to be heard by someone outside.
“I was alone,” he repeated, more insistent, walking closer to the visitor. “Besides, it’s none of your business.”
“Yes, it is,” the visitor said quietly, and remained staring at the man.  
“Why are you here anyway?” the man asked, flustered—no, angry now. He was not going to engage in a verbal battle with this person. It would just be a waste of time. “I was just leaving,” the man announced suddenly. He strode over to the nightstand where his wallet, cell phone, and keys were located. He picked up the wallet and shoved it in his back pocket. He reached down to grab his cell phone and keys. As he did, he felt a sharp pain in the center of his back.
“What the. . .?”
The pain tore into his body. Then again. A horrific, searing pain. He turned, or tried to turn.  As he stretched his head to the side, he saw a hand holding a large, sharp instrument, poised in the air, ready to drop. The hand hit his back again, digging the sharp implement into it. And again. He tried to reach out—to speak—to call for help. Surely, someone here would hear him, someone must be around. It was a motel, for God’s sake. Maybe a maid, the desk clerk? But . . . no, it was too late. Another blow fell onto his back. And another. Sharp blows continued to pummel him. That sharp, horrible pain that he couldn’t stop. That was the last thing he remembered as his body slid quietly to the floor of the motel room—the sharp pain. His cell phone and keys dropped from his hands and silently landed onto the mottled green rug. The cell phone bounced when it fell and slid under the bed, out of sight.
Not waiting to check on the man’s condition, the visitor quietly placed a “Do Not Disturb” placard on the outside room door, and disappeared down the back stairs.

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