HA!
There are launch parties going on this weekend over at Facebook and Goodreads! Let's do launch! ;-)
Anyway, this is, as previously mentioned, historical (so if you don't like old black and white movies, you probably won't--WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?) and it's also, just for the next 90 days, an Amazon exclusive. I thought I would experiment with Kindle Unlimited, since we keep hearing all these stories about how no one can survive without it. I apologize in advance to those of you who don't purchase through Amazon.
BLURB:
Felix Day, author of the Constantine Sphinx mysteries, and Leonard Fuller, author of the Inspector Fez mysteries, are bitter rivals and the best of enemies. Both happen to be present when a notorious author of roman à clef is shot by an invisible assailant during a signing at historic Marlborough Bookstore.
Even if they weren’t both suspects, it’s the perfect opportunity to match wits and sleuthing skills.
If only the murderer was equally amused.
EXCERPT
Harp tapped the point of his pencil on his notes. At last he
raised his head and fixed me with a bleak and wintry stare. “Was Shelton blackmailing
you?”
“Me? No. Of course
not.”
I realized too late the correct answer was what would he have to blackmail me
about? But Harp already knew the answer to that.
“Tell me the truth. If he was, I’ll do what I can for you.
You’ll go to prison, maybe the chair, but I’ll see that the truth doesn’t come
out.”
I stared at him—gawked is probably the more accurate word—and
then I began to laugh. At Harp’s change of expression I laughed harder. In
fact, I had to put my hands over my face to try and smother the guffaws that
threatened to tear out.
“Say,” Harp said, frowning. “Are you screwy, or are you just
having some kind of fit?”
I shook my head, still gulping
.
“All right. All right.” Harp pulled open a couple of drawers
and found a silver flask. He unscrewed the lid, sniffed the contents, and rose.
He handed the flask across the desk to me.
I wiped my eyes, half rose to take the flask, and swigged
down a couple of mouthfuls of rye. The liquor burned its way down my throat and
splashed into my empty stomach. I felt slightly sick but more composed as I
handed the flask back to Harp. He sniffed it a second time and then also took a
quick swallow. He screwed the lid tight and placed the flask back in the
drawer.
“Was that a confession?” he asked.
Unfortunately that started me all over again.
“For Christ’s sake!” Harp muttered.
I managed to get control of myself. “Sorry,” I said. I wiped
my eyes again, sat up straight. “Why don’t you tell me what evidence you’ve got
against me?”
Harp began to tell me.
You can buy this little amusement over at Amazon. I hope you enjoy it!
