My recently published Amazon Kindle novella. It's about a missing fashion model that is in danger of becoming a murder victim.
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Angel Mandrell is a beautiful model with a penchant for helping men in distress regain their self respect.
When Angel comes up missing, ex-Chicago cop, and best-selling author, George
Washington agrees to launch a search.
During the course of investigating Angel’s disappearance, Washington finds himself becoming more and more fascinated by a woman he has never met; fascinated to the point of falling for her.
By the time two women with ties to Angel are murdered, Washington realizes he’s in a race against time to prevent her from suffering the same fate.
Once we arrived at Range’s house, as we were moving up the walk to the front door, Potts said:
“Stay quiet, and let me do all the talking.”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I rang the doorbell. It took over a minute for Range to finally open the door. He looked a little better. He was still wearing the same robe.
“What the hell are you doing back here?” he snarled. “And who’s your friend?”
Potts flashed his police badge. “Lt. Potts. Chicago Police Department. May we come in and talk to you a moment?”
Range quickly morphed into Mr. Nice. “Oh yes. Certainly. Certainly.”
He stepped back and allowed us to enter. The living room was done up in a tasteful blue motif. The walls were a very light blue, the shag carpet was very dark bordering on purple, and two easy chairs and identical sofas were a rich medium blue.
“Come on in and have a seat,” Range said cordially. “You didn’t tell me you was a policeman before.”
“You didn’t give me a chance to,” I replied coldly.
“We’ll stand if you don’t mind,” Potts said.
“What is this about? Angel?”
“Then you do know her.”
“Uh. Yes. That’s right.”
“You two were having an affair,” I suggested.
“Well. Yes. It’s over with now. What is this about? Did Angel do something wrong? Has something happen to her?”
Potts took a couple steps forward. “Something has happened . But not to her. You know Betty Turnipseed, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’m acquainted with the young woman. Why?”
“I have some bad news. She’s dead. She was murdered.”
Range whirled about and covered his face with his hands. “Oh God. Oh no. Excuse me. Please excuse me.”
He rushed over to the mini-bar in a corner of the room. He poured himself a drink in a medium-sized shot glass. I followed him over.
“You’re really on a bad roll with women,” I said. “One mistress left you. Another one is dead. And your wife has left you, hasn’t she? Where is she, Range?”
Range glanced nervously from me to Potts. “What is this about? Poor dead Betty, or my personal life?”
“It’s about Betty. When was the last time you saw her? Did you fight or argue?”
“Wait a minute now. Are you insinuating that I’m a suspect?”
I leaned against the edge of the bar. “Why don’t you stop bullshitting and tell us the truth? You killed Betty Turnipseed. Why don’t you save us a lot of time and admit it?”
“I have no intention of doing such a thing detective uh.”
“I didn’t kill poor Betty. If you plan to arrest me, let me get in touch with my attorney.”
“No need for that,” Potts said. “We’re leaving now. Just make sure you don’t leave town.”
Range didn’t reply. I had several things running through my head, but I declined to pursue them.