By Linda Lael Miller
Read Online or Download Deadly Gamble PDF
Similar women sleuths books
One morning mythical wit Dorothy Parker discovers somebody less than Manhattan's famed Algonquin around desk. a bit early for a handed out inebriated, is not it? yet he isn't useless under the influence of alcohol, simply useless. while an enthralling author from Mississippi named Billy Faulkner turns into a suspect within the homicide, Dorothy comes to a decision to dabble in a bit detective paintings, enlisting her literary cohorts.
There is not anything cozier than a iciness night in Greenwich Village. Streetlights shimmer via icy flakes, cafés glow with welcoming heat, and a layer of snow dusts historical townhouses like powdered sugar on vacation confections. homicide has no position in one of these lovely photograph, earlier. .. Coffeehouse supervisor Clare Cosi has grown very keen on Alfred Glockner, the part-time comedian and surely jolly charity Santa who is been utilizing her Village combination as a spot to hot his mittens.
Brain video games, a set of 19 tales of courageous new worlds and exchange realities Clint Brooks, former Senior consultant for fatherland safety and Assistant Deputy Director, NSA, says: "Richard Thieme takes us to the sting of cliffs we all know are there yet infrequently stopover at. He splendidly weaves lifestyles, secret, and fervour via electronic and traditional worlds with creativity and mind's eye.
Extra info for Deadly Gamble
My cell phone played its ditty-of-the-week just as I made a right turn onto Center Street. Certain that something dire was going on with Lillian, I dived for it. The trucker behind me leaned on his air horn, and I swerved to the side of the road, parked. ” I cried breathlessly. ” I closed my eyes, dizzy with relief. No bad news about Lillian. At least, not yet. “Tucker,” I repeated numbly. ” “I’m fine,” I said. He was always asking me that, and I always gave him the same answer, whether it was true or not.
I ought to be back by Monday afternoon. ” “Sure,” he said, and the old baby blues twinkled. “Sheila’s after me to shut down the bar for a few days next week, so we can go camping up at Oak Creek Canyon. You mind dog-sitting while we’re gone? ” I grinned, touched Bert’s shoulder as I passed with a large coffee to go. ” In my opinion, Sheila was right—Bert needed some time off. In the two years I’d lived over the saloon, he’d never turned away a day’s business. In fact, last Christmas morning, he and Sheila had thrown a party for their customers, right there on the premises.
It was wrinkled—nothing I sleep in gets ironed, and neither does most of what I don’t sleep in—but comfortably soft, and definitely clean. I brushed my teeth, checked all the locks again and tumbled into bed. The next thing I knew, sunlight was streaming into the room and I could hear a lawn crew outside, chattering in Spanish, with an accompaniment of lively Latin tunes. No night visits from Nick. No bad dreams. I figured I was on a roll, and the rest of the day would go well. Yeah, right. I put on jeans and a T-shirt with no logo—for dressup—and walked almost all the way around the main house before I found the patio.