It all started in Richard Starkman’s office when he told me that someone was trying to murder him.Who am I?Yeah, I guess you’ve got to know that.I’m Michael P. O’Handley, sometimes cab driver, sometimes Insurance Investigator, full time hustler; just trying to get by in this world.Balding, paunchy and at fifty-something well past my best before date, I guess it’s hard to picture me involved in a case like this; but as Starkman said, what prompted him to call me was the fact that I was recommended as “stupidly honest.”
At first, I thought it was Starkman’s paranoia and no one was really trying to kill him.Then I found out about the poker game where the ultimate winner is the one who survives the longest and now the pot stands at a cool quarter million.Then there’s the unusual circumstances concerning how some players met their untimely ends, the suspicous advances of their beautiful but deceptive wives and the big Italian kid who wants to perform primitive surgery on a sensitive part of my anatomy because he thinks I’m sleeping with his mother...which is another story.Am I going too fast for you?
Well, that’s just the beginning.A dead man leaves me seventy-five grand if I find his murderer, the wives are willing to do anything to help and to top it off, my ex-wife is thinking about getting back together.So, do I keep the money, find the murderer, survive the women and just who is the winner who takes all?
Okay...it’s too much to explain in this short space.You’ll just have to read the book.
Michael P. O’Handley
"Michael!" Suddenly it was like we'd never been divorced; whenever she called me Michael it meant she was either horny or mad. This time she wasn't horny. "All I'm doing is telling you what I read. No one in the court asked those questions. Everyone seemed to feel that it was an accident."
"Rene, I'd really appreciate it if you could get me a copy of that transcript."
She suddenly busied herself with something in her purse. "I can't get you a copy. Our company wasn't even involved in the claim. And even if I did you wouldn't find out anything more than what I've told you."
"OK, OK ... can you get me this Sam Crisp's address?"
"In court he said he lived on Sandown Crescent in Bendale."
"That's great." I reached across the table and took her hand from her purse and held it for a moment. "Thanks, Rene."
At first she tried to pull it away, but then relaxed. I put my other hand over her hand and held it tight.
"All these years, Mike, and you can still get me angry and frustrated and ... and ... I don't understand why." Her eyes moistened.
I smiled across at her in what I thought was my cute little way. "It's simple. You're still crazy about me."
She smiled broadly and leaned forward squeezing my hand, "Don't be absurd."