Private Detective investigates the disappearance of a Tycoon. Wife is accused of murder.

My office and apartment are located on the second floor above a bar called Legs, and I was reviewing my life with the help of three fingers of single malt when she walked in. She was a knockout, from her black hat, coffered hair and supple lips, to her long silky legs. Everything about her shouted "money." Her hat cost more than a month's pay.
"Are you the private eye?" she said.
Her voice matched her looks, soft, cultured and silky.

Certain content that appears on this page comes from Amazon. This content is provided “as is” and is subject to change or removal at any time.