When danger rolls into town I have one eye open ' my most private eye ' while the other is focusing on a fiery fury of a lady. Surrounded by more underworld celebrities than San Quentin and Sing Sing combined, can you believe that I was the King of Clowns
That's right, but I thought my role was to rescue any poor damsel in distress. Too bad that maiden wasn't planning to rescue me from the next social event planned in town ' my funeral ' and it was up to me to crash the party while keeping cool below the belt.
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
February 01, 2002
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Kill the Clown by Richard S. Prather
She was the only client who ever hired Sheldon Scott, Investigations--that's me--before a word was spoken. She didn't know it, but I had taken her case, no matter what it was, before she opened her mouth--and it was my mouth that opened first, anyway.
She came into my suddenly drab office like a Spring breeze visiting Winter, and closed the frosted glass door gently behind her. Then she walked up to my mahogany desk and I got a really good look at her.
And it was really good.
She had red hair like combed fire, lips that looked soft as whispers, and a figure that made other women seem two-dimensional.
She was a tall girl. I'm just a shade under six-two, and when I stood up behind my desk those lips were only about five inches below mine, which was five inches too far. But her blue eyes somehow seemed wrong in her oval face--a little too cold and brittle, and out of place, like ice in a just-right martini.
Maybe that should have warned me. It didn't.
"You must be Mr. Scott. I hope you're free to help me. I do need help."
The voice wrapped me in a cocoon of warm words. It was like perfume made audible. It was a velvety, vibrant voice filled with promises I wanted to help her keep. My stand-up hair is white, yes; but not from old age.