By J.A. Jance
The Statfire Breeze steams its means north towards the Gulf of Alaska, buffeted through crisp sea winds blowing down from the Arctic. these on board are trying to find peace, leisure, experience, get away. yet there's no break out right here during this position of unspoiled normal majesty. simply because terror strolls the decks even within the marvelous gentle of day... and dying is a conspicuous, unwelcome passenger. And a former Seattle policeman -- a broken murder Detective who has come to heal from clean, stinging wounds -- will locate that the bleak ghosts pursuing him weren't left in the back of ... as a excitement cruise long past horribly unsuitable consists of him inexorably into deadly, ever-darkening waters.
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Extra info for Birds of Prey: A Novel of Suspense
I’ve been to the departmental shrink. Dr. Katherine Majors tells me that I’m suffering from post-traumatic stress. She claims that’s why I keep having ﬂashbacks. Not the kind of ﬂashbacks that makes brokendown vets think they’re back in ’Nam and under attack by the Vietcong, but close enough. Close enough to keep me from sleeping much at night. Close enough to make me wonder if I’m losing my grip. Close enough to make me postpone accepting the attorney general’s offer to go to work on her Special Homicide Investigation Team based down in Olympia.
I was spread thin over three partners while a much younger Marc Alley only had to deal with one. Admittedly, Marc’s was a handful. Margaret Featherman danced with her body glued to his in a way that made it look as though she was ready to seduce him on the spot. I remember Mother warning me about girls who danced that way. Miss Toledo told me much the same thing. Somehow, I don’t think anyone ever got around to telling Marc Alley. I was taking a turn around the ﬂoor to the tune of “Dancing in the Dark” with Naomi Pepper, the plumpish woman who had winked at me earlier.
Giving Naomi a mock salute, Lars went on his way. I wondered who might have called. The only person I had made arrangements to see later was Marc Alley. Maybe he needed to cancel our lunch date. ” Naomi exclaimed as Lars disappeared from sight. “He’s dear, all right,” I said. “That’s what last night’s lovers’ quarrel was all about. Beverly, my grandmother, was evidently having a blast dropping money in the slot machines in the casino. Lars got all burned up about it. He thought she was throwing away his hard-earned cash which she, on the other hand, claims was her hard-earned cash.