Girl Justice $.99

Candy Candelosi asked, “Don’t you ever do anything that isn’t connected to everything else?” I suddenly realized I’m like an evil magnet pulling hidden bad DNA into visible force lines. It’s the essence of me.

Seven years ago my Rhonda was killed because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or so I thought. But as of a week ago, Rhonda’s killer was no longer an amorphous untraceable jewelry store robber, but a cop; and in that relatively small circle of suspects, it was only a matter of time, but he knew that too.

My girls decided they would bring Rhonda’s killer to justice, but they didn’t know their girl justice wasn’t enough for me, not nearly; and I’d dally at the outer fringes of their investigation to protect them and take action when the time came; as if I’d be in control. So instead I looked for the run-away parents of the three wayward Olson kids who had changed their evil ways, which was fine until our cases crossed paths and I tried to take my girls off Rhonda’s case; but that wasn’t going to happen, and I learned the true meaning of girl justice.

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Old Words Kill $.99

Old Words Kill

Librarians’ conjures up thoughts of studious and watching, and buns of the hair variety; but not Joan Tomay and the randy librarians at the Ormond College Archives. But Joan was dead three months from a suicide, a buried statistic not looking for justice until her cousin, my Becky Tomay, read her diary which laid bare half her life, the old-style librarian half. But she wasn’t the only Joan in my investigative sights; there was Joan Viennes, a missing teenager on the verge of a sexless adulthood. My two Joans’ worlds crossed at the missing half of Joan Tomay’s diary, the intersection of sex and perversion with politics and money. Would the child survive? And could I keep the reputations of innocent people out of harm’s way and still find justice? And there was a lot of justice needing doing.

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Blues in Black & White $.99

Jesse Black was a white girl who could really sing the blues, and she lived the life one would expect, until she died. Like her mother, Jesse had secrets, but like that six-degrees-of-separation thing, her secrets knew secrets with their own perverted history, and the living threads dragged her down and killed her because Jesse didn’t understand the full nature of the evil that traveled through one family’s polluted DNA. I had to pull on those threads to find the killer, but not until I found all the dead. And I learned two new truths; you can hide the trappings of killer, but, no matter how many years, the killer is there waiting; and no man can hate like a woman.

My job is generally mundane, lost kids and wandering spouses, but, whether by coincidence or serendipity or fate, I am often a hunter of death; or is that the other way around? And the idea that what goes around, comes around? Well, I’m still here.

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The Color-Blind Detective

C.B. GREEN, AKA “the color-blind detective,” has a unique perspective on the world. It is a dark male view of the mean streets stripped of that female need for fairness. His world isn’t fair, but it’s always just. Yes, C. B. Green makes justice happen. It’s why the cops hate him. It’s why the cops love him.

Strip the color from your world. Imagine only black, white and gray. Imagine you’re Ansel Adams’ lens. Imagine seeing the drug transaction in the dark entryway, the high-class hooker leaving the Hilton, the nonchalant walker checking the parked cars, the kid eyeing the unlocked bike, the cyclist watching for a loosely held purse, the homeless person on the edge of doing something stupid. Imagine not being able to not see them.

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