Young couple Keely Foster and Parker Hall have just opened their very own detective agency. Almost immediately they get a visitor.
Corky Middleton is a seventeen-year old woman who knows she was adopted. Until now Corky has been satisfied with this, and her life and her loving parents. Her mother died in childbirth. But….Suddenly, out of nowhere, Corky notices a woman who keeps turning up, apparently watching Corky. Racking her brain to figure out why, Corky begins to wonder if, after all, her birth mother could be alive…and hanging around. She thinks Foster & Hall Investigations may be able to help.
Sounds simple enough.
But the minute the detectives track down the woman's whereabouts, big problem.
Parker stumbles upon a dead man.
But it looks like this cloud has a silver lining. Due to the media publicity the agency gets a job offer from the Albemarle Department Stores.
Wow, Parker says. This could be their big break.
Hey, we know life isn't that easy.
Before they know it, the investigative team is involved in a mess that leaves them baffled and frightened at attempts on their lives. Nobody seems to be telling the truth and nobody wants anything to do with them. Worse, nobody wants to pay them either!
Can Foster & Hall go back eighteen years and dig up the truth in this deceptive mystery?
Cambridge Books ISBN 978-1-61386-048-9 and e-book at www.writewordsinc.com. ISBN 0-9706152-8-9. Also available at Kindle, Nook and other outlets. Get your copy today. If you don't like it, give to somebody who annoys you.
Chef Merle Blanc, he has the nose. And when millionaire Bernard Goldberg dies during his wedding luncheon in the chef’s restaurant, Chef Blanc’s nose, he smells the murder!
What greater insult for Chef Blanc than that someone would be so callous as to commit a murder in his restaurant during a wedding reception he has so painstakingly prepared.
Still the doctors and police believe Goldberg’s death was natural. Can Chef Blanc keep some forty guests and employees in his restaurant long enough for him to don his apron and cook a killer’s goose before closing time?
“A fun read with lots of red herrings and false trails. I’m pleased to recommend Deadly Reception as a well told tale worth the time. Surprises in store for you. You’ll want to read other tales by this very able storyteller. Enjoy. I sure did.”
— Anne K. Edwards www.mysteryfiction.net
From www.writewordsinc.com Cambridge Books ISBN 978-1-61386-110-3
Available at all the best sites. Order your copy today! You'll be glad you did, and my ego needs a hug.
It's easy for you to get your hands on a copy of one of these novels. My home port (aka my publisher) is Cambridge Books: www.writewordsinc.com
You can find them on nearly all websites such as Amazon (Kindle), B&N (Nook), Fictionwise, etc. as well as in bookstores. If your favorite bookstore doesn't have the book you want, offer some gentle counseling on the wisdom of stocking fine books and throw in the title and ISBN of the book you desire.
I don't sell books directly, but you can always contact me through this website. I always appreciate your interest and your visits to see what's new (that usually being some tirade against something that really irritates me).
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a place where I get to blow off steam, get things off my chest and generally speak my mind. I hope you'll check in now and anon and you're certainly welcome to disagree and let me know it.
When I was a youngster, I worked in a small Mahattan luncheonette on lower 8th Avenue. It was a pretty bad area for drugs, at that time anyway. Dudes used to stand around my workplace and all along down past the A&P, stoned out of their minds. Very sad.
One day the boss was out. No customers. I was all alone. A kid came in and ordered an Italian ice.
As I was taking care of the kid, a rough-looking guy in powder blue chino work clothes (popular at the time) came in. He looked just like any other guy, a bit scruffy, maybe a dock worker or something.
I scarcely paid any attention.
Neither did the kid.
Like a hawk diving in on a field mouse, the guy swooped down quick and silent. He sank his claws into the kid from behind and growled, "Don't move or I'll break your arm."
The kid believed him.
I believed him.
The guy said to me, "Is there a place in back where we can go?"
I was so shocked by all this I simply nodded toward the kitchen at the rear.
The guy marched the kid to the rear and I followed close behind.
I finally found my voice. "Listen, what are you a cop or something?"
The guy didn't say a word. Instead, he reached one hand back and lifted the bottom of his jacket so I could see the revolver at his hip.
Badge? Hey, the man's strapped. Good enough for me.
After a moment of poking around in the kid's pockets, the guy came up with some small twists of paper and triumphantly showed them to me. Then the pair left.
A few days later, a neat, well-groomed man in a suit and tie came up to the counter and ordered something. After a moment he smiled and said, "You don't recognize me, do you?"
I looked more closely at him, nodded no.
"I busted that kid in here the other daÿ," he said, enjoying my surprise. I've been watching him for a while. Got him and some of his buddies too."
And that was Eddie Egan shortly before "The French Connection" bust went down.
He was tough, but I think I'd have liked him.
M. Vidocq beats all the literary and film detectives by far. An ex-con, he used his knowledge of the underworld to form the Sûreté and hired some of his « ex-taulard » buddies to work for him.
He also became the world's first private eye and set up the first credit reporting company and...became the model for the modern fictional detective.
Sound like a pitch for a TV series? It was the real thing. And of course, La Sûreté Nationale lives on today with an updated name: La Police Nationale.