Hello everyone. This is Francis Xavier Shillingford. JJ requested I post on the second-last day of the 99-cent Forever Poi promotion (the fourth book in the Triple Threat Investigation Agency series).
I’d hired the three private investigators to help me with an investigation into two art gallery fires that also resulted in two fatalities. I’d heard they were new to the P.I. scene, but committed and successful (with their first two official cases).
I thought I’d share an excerpt that features yours truly and the women—I hope it tweaks your interest so you might consider checking them out.
“How’s Crispy doing on this gorgeous Wednesday afternoon?” I slipped alongside.
“Friends call me Mr. Crispy, yeah?” A wide smile displayed two tiny front gold teeth.
Rey, Linda, and JJ parked themselves on the other side of the table after I introduced them as freelance insurance investigators.
With the barest of nods and an expression devoid of emotion, Crispy popped a couple of fries into his mouth as he peered from one face to the next, then stopped on mine.
“So, Mr. Jester Crispy Risco, tell us what you know about the two gutted dwellings that up until early last night served as art galleries. They were torched, right? Were Carlos Kawena and James-Henri Ossature the targets? Or were the two bodies collateral damage?”
Jester picked at the hamburger steak with child-sized fingers, three of which were horribly disfigured, like brittle twigs. The rest of the right hand resembled a spider’s web. A long twining scar on the left hairless arm had me once wondering if it was another “reminder” of bad deeds gone wrong. It was. I stole a fry and eyed him closely.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft yet prickly, like pine needles. “They know for a fact it was them two?”
“No.”
He drew a long, steady breath. “Ain’t heard anything—as you would say—noteworthy.”
“What’s un-noteworthy then?” Rey asked casually.
The lover of hot and fiery things eyed her for several seconds. Again, there was no emotion. “Not frickin’ sure. Not yet.”
“Per our call earlier, have you started asking around?” I prodded.
“You know me, A. I’m a man of my word. But you also know my contacts are bat people; they love the night. They don’t take kindly to being bugged early in the day.”
“It’s two o’clock,” Linda pointed out.
His flat face finally conveyed emotion: amusement.
“For these folks, two is early in the day.” I smiled patiently and turned back to my informant. “Call me when you get something.”
Please check out these lovely ladies (and talented P.I.s) at:
https://www.amazon.ca/Forever-Poi-Tyler-Colins/dp/1079716483
NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.
The Writer's Grab-Bag 