"This is all circumstantial evidence,” I said to Reagan as we stood on the sidewalk outside my house. “The police have to see that someone’s setting me up to cover their own butt.”
“It’s your butt that needs covering, Walker,” Reagan offered. “The police found your .38 in your desk drawer and it matches the bullet that killed Conway. The cops are on their way. You got to get out of here right now.”
I looked at my ’57 red Chevy convertible parked at the curb. “Might as well put a target on my back with driving this thing.”**
Reagan shoved her helmet at me. “Take Princess.”
“A scooter? You want me to ride a pink scooter named Princess?”
“Better than that being your nickname in the big house.”
The Poisoned Martini
I don’t believe I’ve ever needed to read an excerpt for a series’ next installment so desperately.
Such a good book and I loved every bit of it and can't wait to see what happens next.
Click here to connect to my website http://www.duffybrown.com