Day Two, Howdy-Do

Can You Hula like Hilo Hattie? is a mere 99 cents through August 17.

Newbie private eyes JJ, Rey and Linda accept their first official detecting assignment: learning the “secret” of an elderly millionaire’s pretty young wife.  He believes she may be having an affair.  If they succeed, their newly founded business, The Triple Threat Investigation Agency, will prove a viable venture.

The twist: the wife is found murdered along the sapphire shores of Oahu. And there’s a secret all right, one of many, and they don’t all belong to the deceased woman.

Perhaps you’d like a little excerpt?

We’d only had to demonstrate she was a cheating spouse who possessed a secret that could prove of value to her husband and help dissolve a four-year marriage. All that had been required: surveying the woman, taking photos as necessary, and delivering nightly reports. Easy-peasy. Not.

What we’d unearthed in the preceding days extended to the sordid world of drugs and gambling, two ugly and dangerous addictions that could drag you under and far like the Molaka’i Express, which was the crossing of the Kaiwi Channel from volcano-formed Molaka’i, Hawaii’s fifth largest island, and possessed exceptionally strong currents. If the vice didn’t batter you, the enabler—the human component—was there to ensure you remained dependent, paid up and/or stayed high, and never screwed him or her.

“Man, she must have really pissed someone off.”

“Big time.” I peered across the darkening Pacific and reflected on that which had brought us to Hawaii: a desire to open our own P.I. agency. But the body sprawled across rough wave-soaked rocks begged one crucial question: what did a meteorologist, actress, and scriptwriting assistant know about detecting? So what if they’d played amateur sleuths several months ago during a murder-filled week at an eerie Connecticut mansion? That didn’t grant them the expertise or street smarts to manage a bona-fide case.

. . . But maybe the more imperative question at the moment was: how were they going to explain a simple undercover-case gone terribly wrong?

If we’ve piqued your interest, please check us out at:

https://www.amazon.ca/Can-Hula-like-Hilo-Hattie/dp/1074454073

NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day Five, Last Promo Drive

Hey, it’s Rey on the last day of the $0.99 promo drive for our second case, Coco’s Nuts.

Our Triple Threat Investigation Agency is hired by socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer to prove she didn’t shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo, or her best friend, Eb Stretta.  A challenge because the cops and the evidence all point to her pulling the trigger.

As we begin searching for the real killer, we discover a number of people who might fit the bill.  There’s Annia, Picolo’s daughter, who owes mega bucks to folks in Vegas and on Oahu; receiving money from the sizeable inheritance would sure help her from having that pretty face rearranged.  Jimmy Junior might have decided he’d like to take on Daddy’s businesses for himself; he seems super tired of standing in the big guy’s shadows. Then we have Coco Peterson, a company driver, who’s been AWOL since the two murders—and rumors have it he’s a major nutbar.  Then there’s Picolo brother and Stretta’s, too.  And let’s not forget that hottie, Kent, a valuable Picolo employee.  Yup, a number of people certainly fit the killer bill.

Maybe you’d be interested in checking out who the culprit is?  I promise, it’s a twisty-turny f-u-n mystery trip.

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

See ya all soon!

Four, One More

Hey-ho, it’s Rey, back for the fourth day of the Coco’s Nuts promotion.  Silly Cousin Jilly–I didn’t drink that many Mai-Tais.  Anyway, Coco’s avail for $0.99 for yet one more day (not counting tomorrow ‘course).  Yay!

The Triple Threat Investigation Agency has to prove socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer didn’t shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo or her best friend, Eb Stretta.  Who cares what the police believe or the evidence suggests?  We know Buddy’s been set up and as we start looking for the killer, we find a few people who could fit the bill.

As we attempt to solve this challenging case, we step into the world of gambling and debt collectors.  Annia, Picolo’s daughter, owes a lot of money in Vegas and on Oahu.  Did she kill her father to obtain a sizeable inheritance so she could pay off these bone-breaking bozos?  Jimmy Junior, Picolo’s son, might have wanted to take over his father’s multiple and prosperous businesses before the old guy passed naturally.  There’s kooky Coco Peterson, a Picolo nutbar, er, employee who’s been missing since the murders took place.

Here’s an excerpt:

“You’re positive he left sometime last Friday?” I asked Jem Stretta over the phone. Like Buddy, he lived in Lahaina, but in the Kelawea Mauka neighborhood near his late younger brother, Eb.

“No. Like I told the cops, Eb called me the previous Thursday evening telling me he had a mission on Oahu and he’d be leaving the following evening. Pay was better’n good, he said. He was pretty excited, even mentioned champagne and a trip to Kona on Big Island, which meant it had to pay excellently well. Then he hurried off to do stuff.” Jem’s exhalation sounded like the whistle of an old steam locomotive. “I phoned three times and texted twice between fix-it jobs because I wanted him to get some stuff, but he never answered. I checked with Andy, his coffee pal, and he hadn’t heard from the Ebster in a few days.”

According to Buddy, the fellow trucker had always been extremely responsible and dependable, so his not contacting his brother had been very peculiar.

Jem, short for Jeremiah, lived two streets over from Eb, in an identical single-family, two-bedroom dwelling. According to Buddy, both long narrow houses were trimmed in shades of raven black and tree-toad brown, and had identical four-by-six windows with gun-metal-gray blinds, the same fencing and similarly decorated lanais, with two avocado trees smack-dab center on miniscule lawns. They weren’t twins, although from Buddy’s descriptions, you might have thought so. Besides identical houses, both sported spiky bleached hair, shell surfer necklaces, and lots of polyester. The bothers also had things for greasy food and easy women. Eb was the baby in the family, five years Jem’s junior and fifteen years Hutch’s.

Hutch, short for Hutchkins (their mother’s maiden name), had been the eldest brother. He had died crossing a boulevard while visiting an ex-wife in Mississippi last year — hit, decked, and crushed by a two-ton turkey. The heavyset gobbler had been part of a small-town Thanksgiving Day parade, the thirty-fourth in its history, and possibly the last. A traumatic experience it had been — for the stupefied young driver beneath the large bird, the stunned crowd, and certainly Hutch, who prior to staggering across the path of the wattle-headed bird had indulged in a liquefied version of same (i.e. Wild Turkey).

“Will you check the garage again for Buddy’s gun?” As Buddy had told Ald, she’d left the Glock with Eb when she’d headed to Oahu.

“I said I would.” He belched. The Stretta brothers weren’t known for good manners, but they seemed to be decent souls from what Buddy had claimed. “But if the cops didn’t find her gun, I don’t see as I’ll have better luck. Where’s best to get you?”

I gave the numbers for the agency and my cell.

“Are they still thinking she did it?” His laughter reminded me of a badger: low-pitched, and rumbling.

“She’s at the top of the list. In both cases, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Additionally, her card was in your brother’s wallet, she happens to know both men, and she owns a 10-mm, the murderer’s weapon of choice.” I watched two honeycreepers soar past the lanai window like small colorful comets. “She’s also the right height and left-handed.”

His snort sounded like a puppy’s sneeze. “Maybe they should put me on the list, too. I knew them both, I’m left-handed, and my name and number were in Eb’s wallet.”

“Let me know if you find or hear anything.” I hung up and saw Rey standing by the kitchen counter, perturbation lining that pretty face. “Upset? Or constipated?”

Hopefully, I’ve peaked interest.

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Back tomorrow, the last day of the promo.  Aloha Sunday!

Day 3, Oh What Glee

It’s JJ on the third day of the Coco’s Nuts promotion, taking over for Rey, who attended a social-distancing-respected luau last night and ended up drinking too many Mai-Tais.  Somehow, she ended up under the bed—wedged between the 4” between the floor and box spring.  She’s got an icepack plunked on her head.

Coco’s available for $0.99, not free, but close; what glee (yes well, it was a long night and the brain is a tad tired).

Coco’s Nuts is our second Triple Threat Investigation Agency case.  Today, through June 15th, it’s available for $0.99.  The three of us must prove socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer did not shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo.  Nor did she kill her best friend, Eb Stretta.  Despite what the police believe, and the evidence suggests, we’re convinced that Buddy’s been set up.  As we seek clues and answers, we encounter a number of people who could conceivably killed both men.

Several persons hated Picolo, so finding the one who pulled the trigger is challenging.  As we try to find the culprit, we find ourselves in the dodgy world of gambling and debt collectors (who don’t mind breaking bones, if necessary).  Annia, Picolo’s daughter, owes a lot of money in Vegas and on Oahu, which may have inspired her to her to kill her father to obtain a sizeable inheritance.  Jimmy Junior, Picolo’s son, could have decided to take over his father’s multiple businesses before the old man passed of old age.  There’s also nutty Coco Peterson, a Picolo employee who’s been missing since the murders took place.  He’s a driver for Picolo and the odd little guy appears to play a principal piece in this challenging puzzle.

Here’s an excerpt:

“Of course Buddy Feuer didn’t do it. Who told you she did?” I demanded, already knowing who had tattled to Ricardo Mako Picolo. It could only have been one person: Kent “The Source” Winche.

“Winche,” the health-food freak confirmed, munching noisily, probably a mung-bean, pea-sprout muffin, his favorite according to an article I’d read earlier. “Actually, he said she was a person of interest . . . or did he say suspect? Whatever. He doesn’t believe she did it.”

I paced my kitchen like a tin duck target at a fair ground concession booth. Every time I passed the counter, I poked a trio of bananas perched in a white wicker basket.

It was hard to say why Jimmy Picolo’s slick (as in oil-spill, slippery-slimy) brother proved annoying. Maybe it was the self-satisfied, perpetually tanned face I’d viewed in photos. He sported a nose too perfect to have been born with. Evidently, he and his niece shared the same cosmetic surgeon. He was as handsome as his brother, but more a combination of Bobby Darren of T.J. Hooker fame and Ryo Ishibashi as Detective Toshihuru Kuroda in Suicide Club. Asian-cast root-beer brown eyes seemed to challenge; they, like the thin lips pulled into a smug smile, expressed a sense of superiority. As it had in interviews, the man’s mega ego blazed like a Times Square billboard.

“Thank heavens for the pretty boy’s support,” I responded wryly.

“He’s a big fan of Buddy’s.” Munch, munch. Crunch, crunch. Must be macadamias in that muffin, too. “Winche’ll give his eye teeth — letteralmente — to reinforce that she didn’t do it. He claims she could never kill anyone in a million years. She’s too cute.”

Too cute?

“He’s got a real thing for her. Anyway, with you helping, she shouldn’t worry herself none.” I could hear the simper. “I heard you girls did a solid job working the Howell case.”

“Really?” I was nonplussed.

“When I got your message, I had you checked out. I do that with everyone whose call I’m thinking of returning.”

When I didn’t respond, he chuckled and slurped. Was he also indulging in one of his famous wheatgrass-beetroot smoothies? “I got a proposition. You interested?”

“If it will clear our client’s name, of course,” I responded casually. Poke, poke. The bananas were beginning to look as if they’d encountered a frenzied chimp.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.”

We’re?

“We’re going to find the prick that killed my brother. The why would be a bonus, but the who is the important answer.”

I dropped onto counter stool and rested my chin on the granite counter. “What’s in it for you, Mr. Picolo?” Poke, poke. Oh-oh. The bananas lay on the polished hardwood floor like washed-up marine creatures. Button ambled over, pawed them, sniffed, and flopped onto the floor with a loud sigh.

“Like I said, knowing who killed my brother. The other guy who got rubbed out I could care less about . . . but his family would like to know, I’m sure. Anyway, I’ll add some incentives.”

“Incentives?” I asked, puzzled.

Ricardo’s laughter was reminiscent of microwaved popcorn: staccato, abrupt. Heh-heh. Heh-heh-heh. “Yeah, incentives. First one: twenty-five K.”

Nice incentive. “Second?”

“Coco Peterson’s tattoo and jewelry. It wouldn’t do for the cops to find them, would it?”

If I’ve encouraged some interest, please check out Coco’s Nuts out:

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

My cousin’s back tomorrow, sans icepack.

NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day Two, 99¢ For You

Hey, it’s Rey on the second day of the Coco’s Nuts promotion—our second action-packed Triple Threat Investigation Agency case.  Today, through June 15th, it’s available for just $0.99.

In a nutshell, JJ, Linda and I have to prove socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer did not shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo.  And she certainly didn’t off her best friend, Eb Stretta.  Regardless what the police believe and the evidence suggests, we’re sure that Buddy’s been set up.  As we search for clues, we encounter a slew of possible suspects.

A lot of people hated Picolo enough to kill him, so finding the one who pulled the trigger is challenging.  As we try to find the killer, we take a few detours—into the dark and dangerous world of gambling and debt collectors, who’d just as easily break limbs if ya haven’t paid up as look at ya.  Annia, Picolo’s daughter, owes major dollars to dodgy dudes in Vegas and on Oahu.  Maybe this motivated her to kill her father; she could collect that sizeable inheritance.  Jimmy Junior, Picolo’s son, may have gotten over-eager to take over his father’s multiple businesses; he couldn’t wait for the old man to die of old age.  Then there’s nutty Coco Peterson, a Picolo employee who’s been missing since the murders took place.  He’s a driver for Picolo and the odd little guy appears to play a principal piece in this crazy puzzler.

If you’re interested, please check out Coco’s Nuts out:

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Catch ya tomorrow!

NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day 5, 99¢ No Jive

It’s [still] Linda on the fifth and final day of the Forever Poi promotion, our third Triple Threat Investigation Agency case.  Today, it’s still available for only $0.99.

JJ, Rey and I are hired to investigate two art gallery fires that also claimed two lives: gallery owner and partner, Carlos Kawena, and former queenpin Mary-Louise Crabtree.  The day before the fire, Carlos had a fiery break-up with his long-time partner, James-Henri Ossature.  Could James-Henri have murdered his long-time lover to collect insurance money?  Considering Mary-Louise’s dicey past, had a former foe murdered her?

The three of us encounter several potential suspects and most have ties to the art world—like beautiful Cholla Poniard, James-Henri’s half-sister.  She’s a mysterious woman with a dark, intriguing past.  Artists associated with her have died.  Two of her divorces have ended with ugly consequences for the exes.  As both men advise when asked, Cholla is a dangerous woman who will have her way at any cost.

If you’d like to check out Forever Poi, please go to:

https://www.amazon.com/Tyler-Colins/e/B01KHOZAL2%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share

         NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day One, One More

Hey, it’s Rey on the first day of the Coco’s Nuts promotion—our second action-packed Triple Threat Investigation Agency case.  Today, through June 15th, it’s available for just $0.99 (can you spell b-a-r-g-a-i-n?).

JJ, Linda and I have to prove socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer did not shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo.  Nor did she kill her best friend, Eb Stretta.  And despite what the police believe and the evidence suggests, we’re convinced that Buddy’s been set up.  In our search for answers, we come across a slew of suspects.

A lot of people hated Picolo enough to kill him but finding the one who pulled the trigger proves tough.  As we follow clues to locating the killer, we travel along a few detours—like the world of gambling and debt collectors, also known as limb-breakers.  Picolo’s daughter, Annia, owes thousands of dollars to some nasty folks in Vegas and on Oahu.  Maybe this motivated her to kill her father—so that she could collect a sizeable inheritance.  Jimmy Junior, Picolo’s son, may have been super eager to take over his father’s multiple businesses—and couldn’t wait for the old man to pass naturally.  What about nutty Coco Peterson, a Picolo employee who’s been MIA since the murders occurred?  A driver for Picolo, the odd little pest, er, fellow, appears to be a major piece in this perplexing puzzler.

Yeah, it was challenging–and dangerous–but we had some fun solving this case, too.  e0c519dfe1f34fcf1cd12601fe696bd5If you’re interested, please check out Coco’s Nuts out:

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day 4, One More

It’s Linda on the fourth day of the Forever Poi promotion—our third Triple Threat Investigation Agency case.  Today, through June 12th, it’s available for a trifling $0.99.

JJ, Rey and I are engaged by an insurance adjuster to investigate two art gallery fires that also claimed the lives of gallery owner and partner, Carlos Kawena, and Mary-Louise Crabtree, a former queenpin.  The three of us meet [if not clash with] a number of potential suspects.  The day before the fire, Carlos had a fiery break-up with his long-time partner, James-Henri Ossature.  Might James-Henri have murdered his long-time lover to collect insurance money?  Considering Mary-Louise’s dicey past, had a former foe murdered her?

The art world is a curious milieu replete with equally curious characters—some who don’t want us asking questions or poking our noses where they don’t belong.

Allow me to provide another excerpt:

“One call came from a burner. The area code was from the San Francisco Bay area, but who knows if that’s the actual case. The other with the shot, if that’s what it was, came from a Chicago lounge called The Soul Cole Train Express Lounge.”

Chicago? “I’m sure it was a shot.”

“I called, sweetie, and the owner said there’d been no shootings in his bar for several years.”

Damn. Who’d call from there? Had it been a wrong number—no, it couldn’t have been, because he’d mentioned “a deadly dealing” I’d had with someone he knew. The Soul Cole Train Express Lounge . . . Cole Train . . . As in Coltrane? He’d had to have been referring to the deceased Mr. Coltrane Hodgson Coltrane. Interesting that it was Chicago, once home to Xavier and Carlos and James-Henri. Was there a relation? Or was this sheer coincidence?

And what was Cash doing in San Fran—oh, bloody hell. What did it matter? The guy was an agent; he could be anywhere at any given time. But so much for Florida.

Sinking into a funky, zero-gravity leather massage recliner, a new condo addition (a Reynalda Fonne-Werde must have), Gail grabbed an icy bottle of Longboard from a fat metal bucket on a new, sleek and shiny coffee table.

“You had another call in addition to the one from the ‘associate’?” Rey slipped into the corner of a 60s-styled sectional sofa.

I was seated on the floor before the coffee table, Piggaletto at my side and Bonzo at his. Button and Bonzo were BFFs. Hopefully, my little princess wouldn’t be jealous with the new friendship. “I had a voice-mail from someone and I asked Gail to check it out. I was curious.”

Rey gazed suspiciously from me to Gail, but instead of commenting, as was custom when she was curious or skeptical, nibbled a nacho.

It was two hours since we’d left James-Henri and five minutes since Gail’s arrival. Linda was at Crabby Crabs. Hopefully, she’d have better luck there than in Kailua. The only thing gleaned from the afternoon visit to the Windward beach community was from Cam’s friends, Paula and Paulo: they’d confirmed that he frequented the café when in town, but they’d not seen him recently. Of course, it was entirely conceivable the young sister and brother were lying to protect a friend.

“Tad said he’d try to find where the burner was purchased and if he lucks in, he’ll keep digging.” Gail dipped a blue-corn nacho chip into a huge bowl of guacamole and eyed it hungrily. “He’s like a dog with a bone.”

A stomach stitch stole my breath. Cash had claimed the same of me.

Rey watched the pig with a critical eye. “What was Linda thinking?”

“He’s cute,” I said in his defense, tugging a fuzzy ear playfully. He pressed his snout into my thigh.

“Very,” Gail agreed. “Where is Linda, anyway?”

“Working on one of two cases.” Rey gave a quick rundown.

And I offered one re Cam. Then I relayed what little we’d learned about the gallery fires.

“I can fill in a few small holes,” Gail said, leaning forward. “Did you know Ossature had a gallery in Kahala and that it burned down five years ago?”

Rey confirmed that we did. “According to the police, the fire was an accident.”

With a nod, she munched another nacho. “I have some family facts. His mother, Paris-born Josephine Ossature Illege, moved to live with Casper “Money Bags” Reede in Switzerland, near the French border, two years after James-Henri was born. They traveled a lot. He owned a house here on Oahu, a condo in Spain, and one in Florida.

“His biological father, however, was William Wilford Vaunt, a British eccentric, who also fathered a girl named Cholla. James-Henri and Cholla met later in life, at an art showing in Paris, not long after she graduated from London Business School.”

“We met Cholla recently,” Rey said, wrinkling her nose. “An Audry Hepburn ‘Gigi’ wannabe.”

“I hear she’s a stunner.”

“And then some,” my cousin said flatly.

“We also met Richard Vaunt recently,” I said. “I wonder if he’s a relation.”

“Ekeka’s the name he goes by,” Rey added.

“William Wilford Vaunt was quite a playboy and not one to settle down with the same woman for too long,” Gail grinned. “Vaunt—or Wil-Wil as he was later called in his circle—ended up permanently on Oahu in the late 80s.”

I smiled wryly and Rey snickered.

“Vaunt ended up marrying Richard’s, uh, Ekeka’s mother, Elizabeth Mary Oha, who hailed from California originally. Unfortunately, she was shish-kabobed by a tree branch during an intense thunderstorm. Vaunt married once more—to Leslie-Annabelle Scanlon—and was killed not long after.”

“And how was he killed?” Rey asked, curious.

“He hit his head on the upper deck of his classic sailboat, a ’34 ketch, and fell into the ocean. They never found his body.”

Rey and I gazed at each other, lips drawn. Interesting.

If I’ve sparked some interest, and I hope I have, please check us out here:

https://www.amazon.com/Tyler-Colins/e/B01KHOZAL2%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share\

NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day 3, for You, Not Me

It’s Linda on the third day of the Forever Poi promotion, an exciting Triple Threat Investigation case, if I do say so myself.  Today, through June 12th, it’s available for a mere $0.99.

We’ve been engaged by an insurance adjuster to investigate two art gallery arsons, which also claimed the lives of gallery owner and partner, Carlos Kawena, and former queenpin, Mary-Louise Crabtree.  JJ and Rey and I encounter several possible suspects.  The day before the fire, Carlos had a heated break-up with his partner, James-Henri Ossature.  Could James-Henri have killed his long-time lover to collect insurance money?  Given Mary-Louise’s sketchy past, might a former foe have murdered her?

Perhaps we can tantalize you with an excerpt . . .

“Why do you suppose he’s not returned calls?” Rey asked as we followed the Jag along Kapiolani, five cars behind. “Guilt? Sadness? A combination of?”

“Only he can answer that.”

“Who’s the woman looking very Audrey Hepburn?”

“The same one I’ve seen twice already.”

“But who is she?”

“Your guess is—”

“As good as mine, yeah.”

“Xavier mentioned a half sister. Maybe that’s her.”

“From what little I’ve seen, there’s absolutely no resemblance. James-Henri has a dumpling nose and a donut-round face.”

“And he has hazel eyes while hers are powder-blue,” I added. “I did say ‘maybe’.”

“She’s certainly very attractive. And that designer red lipstick is awesome.”

The sporty car pulled into one of three empty spaces before a row of unexceptional townhouse-condos near Ward and Prospect. Most had once been dusty pink and were now just plain dusty. I maneuvered into a parking spot on the street.

Rey scanned stores and checked her cell. “That’s Carlos’ place.”

“He did have financial issues according to Ald.”

She gestured the duo. “They don’t appear to want to do much but yak and watch.”

“Maybe they know we’re back here.”

“Then why stop?”

“You got me,” I replied with a fleeting smile, keeping a vigilant eye on the two lest they shot off again.

“He must have a key.”

I concurred.

“It’s odd that Carlos lived here and James-Henri there. I mean, they were lovers, at least until recently. I can’t imagine one allowing the other to live in such a . . . a blah place.”

“Blah?” I grinned.

“Ugly. Cheap. It’s not in keeping with the lifestyle or persona he was projecting.”

“You mean successful gallery owner?” I asked dryly, noting that neither sportscar occupant appeared anxious or concerned.

Rey grunted into her cell when taiko drumming announced a call. “We got James-Henri and an Audrey Hepburn wannabe in sight. What’s up? You at the office?” She glanced at me and shrugged. After a few uh-huhs, she disconnected. “Lindy-Loo wants us to head home when we’re able.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s something, that’s for sure,” my cousin replied flatly and gestured. “Our prey aren’t doing much.”

“Either are we,” I said regretfully.

“To hell with that.” With Reynalda Fonne-Werde melodramatic (reckless) flair, my cousin sprang from the Jeep and strode purposefully to the Jag.

Three minutes later, she returned with an expression wavering between triumph and self-satisfaction. “James-Henri’ll meet us at two at a coffee house on Bishop just off Queen. Cholla, his ‘sister’, will not.” My cousin smiled haughtily. “That gal’s a stunner and f’g snooty. That Borgia ring you mentioned looks like the real deal. And those diamond studs have to be four carats. Besides a slight but obvious French accent, she likes to throw around French phrases like bien sûr and c’est pareil.”

“Is her accent as real as Ekeka’s British one?” I asked drolly.

“It sounds legit.” She swung into the passenger’s seat. “Let’s see what James-Henri has to say when we grill him.”

“So, Cous, do tell: what are they doing here?”

“Deciding if they should enter Carlos’ place to grab something.”

“Such as?”

“A little noir book.”

https://www.amazon.com/Tyler-Colins/e/B01KHOZAL2%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share

NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day 1, A Modicum

I hope this post finds you doing amazingly well.  It’s Linda here, for the Forever Poi promotion.

Our last case, Forever Poi, is available for a modicum—a mere $0.99 today through June 12!  So, if you’ve been saving those pennies for a rainy day, maybe this is that day?

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In the event you’re not familiar with it, it’s our third official (paying) assignment and the fourth mystery in the Triple Threat Investigation Agency series.  We’re hired by insurance adjuster Xavier Shillingford to assist in the investigation of a double arson which burned down two art galleries, and also claimed two lives: Carlos Kawena, a gallery partner/owner and Mary-Louise Crabtree, a former queenpin.

It soon becomes evident that the fires were not set by a professional torch but by someone wanting to kill one or both of the deceased.  JJ and Rey and I encounter a plethora of possible culprits.  The day before the fire, Carlos had an “ugly break-up” with his partner, James-Henri Ossature.  Severe financial issues existed, too.  Could James-Henri have done the dastardly deed to collect insurance and be rid of his lover?  What about Mary-Louise Crabtree?  Given her sketchy past, might a former foe have murdered her?  If so, was Carlos merely collateral damage?

A challenging case to say the least.  I hope you find it as exciting as we did!

https://www.amazon.com/Tyler-Colins/e/B01KHOZAL2%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share

NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Back tomorrow!