By M. C. Beaton
Unique e-book: 1999
Former heroin addict Tommy Jarret, invigorated via the chance of staying fresh and writing a e-book approximately his newfound restoration, is all at once discovered lifeless in his Strathbane chalet -- the sufferer of an obvious drug overdose. Lochdubh constable Hamish Macbeth, besides the fact that, senses foul play. Recruited to paintings undercover with tricky Glasgow Detective Inspector Olivia Chater as a husband and spouse workforce, Macbeth dons Armani to dive into the underworld as a global drug baron -- and root out the Amsterdam drug cartel secretly entrenched within the Scottish Highlands.
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Extra info for Death of an Addict (Hamish Macbeth, Book 15)
Fire and I were becoming friends. " Kay took in the two of us with a look that said we were idiot children. I tipped my hat to her, then started to walk away. Kay called out "Dwight," and I wondered how she knew my real name. " CHAPTER THREE The fight became the rage of the Department, then LA, and the Academy gym was sold out within twenty-four hours of Braven Dyer's announcement of it in the _Times_ sports page. The 77th Street lieutenant tapped as official LAPD oddsmaker installed Blanchard as an early 3 to 1 favorite, while the real bookie line had Mr.
Knowing that gave me an easy way out of my dilemma, and I got ready to charge. _" behind me, and knew who the other runner had been. I ran back. There was Lee Blanchard, "The Southland's good but not great white hope," facing down three marines in dress blues and a pachuco in a full-drape zoot suit. He had them cornered in the center walkway of a ratty bungalow court and was holding them off with parries from his nigger knocker. The jarheads were taking roundhouse swipes at him with their two-by-fours, missing as Blanchard moved sideways and back and forth on the balls of his feet.
Personally, I almost hope you do win. If you don't, I get Johnny Vogel. He's fat, he farts, his breath stinks and his daddy's the biggest nosebleed in Central dicks, always running errands for the Jewboy. Besides--" I tapped Blanchard's chest with a soft forefinger. " "Betting works both ways. My girl's got a taste for nice things, and I can't afford to let her down. " Kay said, "Keep talking about me in the third person. " Blanchard put up his hands in mock surrender; Kay's dark eyes burned. " Now her eyes danced.