Morg Mahoney, P.I.

Meet the cast of characters from R. L. Cherry’s Morg Mahoney series. Morg Mahoney, the gun toting, sarcastic, private eye, who along with her best friend, Heather Pierce, the drop dead gorgeous, filthy rich, blonde bombshell, stumble into murder mysteries at the most unusual times.

Meet Morgana “Morg” Mahoney

Morg Mahoney, private investigatorMy father cursed me with the name Morgana, but my friends call me Morg. So do my enemies. You can call me Morg and I’ll decide later which of the two you are.

I grew up in the inappropriately named community of Valley of Enchantment in the San Bernardino mountains in sunny Southern California. Locals call it “The Ghetto of the Mountain” or “Valley of Embarrassment.” For good reason, if you consider the residences that are VW vans on cement blocks. My father, who died just after I graduated from college, was a homicide detective in the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s office. You might think that’s why I became a private investigator. Wrong. The only footstep of his I followed was his love of Jameson Irish Whiskey. I’m not saying my father was cruel, beat me or locked me in the closet, but he wasn’t a doting parent. I think he blamed me for my mother dying in childbirth. Is it just me or is this getting a little dark?

Let’s talk about Joe Spector. He’d been a fellow detective of my father’s before he retired and he’d been like an uncle to me while I was growing up. After I graduated from college with a BA in Classics, he offered me a job in his company, Spector’s Investigators. If I came onboard, it would make an honest man out of him because he was the only investigator in the company. Since my degree only qualified me for a job like flipping hamburgers at McDonald’s, I accepted.

I should mention that my avid reading of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler gave me the impression that being a P.I. was an exciting occupation. Unfortunately, it’s normally very dull and routine. But over the years I’ve grown to like it. Now that Joe’s dead, I’ve got my own business.  It’s not going to make me rich, but it’s a living. In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I can be a little sarcastic. Maybe that’s why my only real friend is Heather Pierce. We don’t have much in common, but she is generous to a fault. I’m too often that fault. But she’s got a tough life. Rich and drop-dead gorgeous. Has more diamonds and cars than I’ve got dollars in the bank. Anyway, I’ll let her tell you about herself. I might be too honest. Did I mention that I was sometimes sarcastic? So, do you come as a friend or an enemy? I warn you that I have a .38 in my purse.

Meet Heather Pierce

People always underestimate me: Heather Pierce, the woman who has everything, but is nothing but a simple-minded, beautiful society chick. Just because I’m wealthy (actually, very rich) and attractive (quite stunning, to be perfectly honest), they assume I am a “dumb blond.” Blond, yes. Dumb, no. I have a degree in Economics from Stanford. You can’t be dumb and have a degree from Stanford. Just because I don’t need to work for a living does not mean I haven’t used my degree, though. I make investments with the money I inherited and have done quite well with them, thank you very much.

My relationship with my father is rather estranged at the moment. Maybe having a bitch of a stepmother who is my contemporary might have something to do with that. My last shrink thought I had “father issues,” which he said was why I have not had any long-term relationships with men. Maybe it’s because I haven’t found the right man? Duh! It’s not because I haven’t had a lot of good-looking, successful men pursuing me. Obviously, I have. But they all end up being jerks. That won’t keep me from trying, though. Maybe I’m the classic eternal optimist. And then there’s Morg Mahoney. She’s the classic eternal pessimist. She’d feel a lot better about herself and the world if she’d just do like I do and exercise regularly and watch what she eats. Not being such a smart-mouth wouldn’t hurt either. When I offered to help her financially, she almost bit my head off. Her stubborn Irish pride might be her downfall someday. Still, she’s got a proverbial “heart of gold” and would do anything for me I really needed. She’s a true-blue friend and they’re hard to find. Actually, she’s the ONLY one I’ve ever found.