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In the first novel in a new series written in the spirit of Carl Hiaasen's work, the Tilt-A-Whirl murder pushes Ceepak's deep sense of honor and integrity to the limits as unexpected twists and turns keep the truth spinning wildly in every direction.
boys in Ocean Town. Connected to the casinos….” “What's his relationship to Mr. Hart?” Ceepak asks. “I don't know,” the chief says. “I do.” When nobody was looking, our New York lady lawyer had slipped into the room. Cynthia Stone is standing there, doing that thing with her hands on her hips and her chest all pushed forward. She reminds me of this bird I saw once on a National Geographic special, always puffing up its breast, trying to scare everyone else away from the worm it wants. “Mr.
move indoors, find a place to sit, get some ice water or something, clean up her hands and face. The shop isn't open, but I see someone inside working a big wooden spatula against a ten-pound slab of butter. It's Amy Decosimo. We went to high school together. I bang on the front door. Amy just about loses it when she sees the bloody kid. “Ohmygod!” “We need to sit down, okay?” “Ohmygod!” “Amy?” I shake my head to let Amy know she can't keep “Ohmygodding” or she'll freak the kid out even
“possibility,” the chief is punching numbers on his telephone. “Goddammit. You should've asked her your goddamn questions while we were down there.” “Didn't think of it until—” “Hello? This is Chief Cosgrove. I want you to answer a question and I want you to tell me the goddamn truth because we can search your car and you know it!” Ceepak raises his palm to make a “wait-whoa-slow-down” gesture. The chief does none of the above. “Where the hell do you get your car washed? Where? Sharky's
No, it's not. Even I know that. The shooter could have planted it there, just like Mendez claimed. Ceepak doesn't press the issue. I have a hunch he won't be telling the chief about our bank-to-beach time trials this morning, either. His old Army buddy seems to have a serious case of Mental Overload bordering on Brain Burnout. The chief slumps down in his big rolling chair. “So,” Ceepak says, “how can you have a file on Squeegee? We don't even know his real name.” The chief cracks a smile,
to advance my cause, so I wore it this weekend.” “Clever.” “Didn't work. He still wanted to knock down the hotel.” “One last thing,” Ceepak says. “How did Mr. Hart and his ex-wife get along?” “Which ex-wife?” He smiles. I think he kind of likes her today. “Number three. Ashley's mother.” “Well,” she pauses to think how to best phrase what's coming next, “she was the mother of his only child….” “But?” “I don't think he trusted her.” “What makes you say that?” “He asked me to make