" Move over Harry Bosch, there's a new guy in town. . . . Detective Mike Stoneman can match wits with Harry any day of the week." -- Authors Show Linda, Kindle Book Award Semi-Finalist / CLUE Book Awards Semi-Finalist (about book #1)
Righteous Assassin (#1)
A MOB BOSS IS EATEN ALIVE BY TIGERS AT THE BRONX ZOO. . . .That was the fourth unsolved murder in four months - each on the last Saturday. The other three were even more unusual . . . .Could they be related? The victims share no similar traits and have no connections. Why would a single killer choose such strange and disparate methods? Why spread your victims across all of New York?
Each new murder adds a piece to the killer's jigsaw puzzle, but unraveling the clues and finding the killer's pattern may not be enough to catch himNYPD homicide Detectives Mike Stoneman and Jason Dickson have to stop the elusive killer before he completes his decathlon of death. And, they have to deal with an FBI profiler, who has been called in to help. Mike must also avoid being distracted by Medical Examiner Michelle McNeill, who seems to be on his mind a lot lately. She's an asset to the investigation, but is this any time to be starting a romance?
The task force is racing against the calendar. Only one thing is certain - on the last Saturday of the month, there will be blood.
THREE DAYS AFTER finding the partially eaten body of Slick Mick Gallata at the Bronx Zoo, Mike and Jason sat in uncomfortable chairs in a briefing room in City Hall, waiting for the Police Commissioner, the chief of the homicide division, and the Mayor. The meeting was scheduled for 10:00 a.m. It was fifteen minutes past ten. A window-mounted air conditioning unit whirred in the corner, fighting a losing battle against the summer heat. Mike was fidgeting and tapping his finger on the conference room table, feeling like an animal trapped in a cage, which brought his thoughts back to the zoo and the corpse in the tiger pit. Jason was reading emails on his cell phone. Mike thought he looked as calm as a rattlesnake stalking a family of mice. He had been thinking in zoo similes all weekend.
Jason’s baritone voice snapped Mike away from his jungle thoughts. “You’re going to back me up, right, Mike?”
“Sure, Kid. I agree with you. I don’t like it, but I can’t deny the facts.” Mike turned away and stared out the window. He knew this was not going to go well with the Mayor and the Commissioner. Maybe he should have retired last year, after all.
He had lobbied for the department to let him stay on part-time and teach his classes to the young detectives and the detective candidates. He loved working cases, but teaching the younger cops was more fulfilling than chasing down leads. He knew that the kids called him “Culo de Piedra,” which translates to “Ass of Stone.” He liked that. As an instructor, he was a hard-ass, but his classes were always full. He lectured on crime scene protocol, evidence collection, chain of custody, how to testify in court, and interrogation technique. He was passing down his knowledge to the next generation. But the Chief said that he could not teach if he was not an active member of the force. Mike suspected that was just a bluff, but he kept both jobs. Today was one of the days he again wished he could just be a full-time teacher. He hated dealing with city politics.
“You should have believed me last month,” Jason mumbled under his breath, but loud enough for Mike to hear in the quiet room.
Mike turned his head quickly. “What did you have a month ago, Dickson? Huh? You had three unsolved murders, each with totally different circumstances, victims, methods, and locations. The only things they had in common were that they were unsolved and they all happened on the last Saturday of the month. I’m supposed to go to the Chief and the Mayor with that? It was crazy. It still is, except that I can’t in good conscience keep you from taking the theory up the chain now that it’s been four months. I’m still not convinced, but I can’t say that you’re wrong about the pattern.” Mike turned away toward the window again, not waiting for any response.
“Why don’t you give me more credit, Mike?”
Mike continued to stare out the window at the steamy city. “Because you haven’t earned it yet, Kid.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Jason worked hard to control his tone of voice. Stoneman was his superior, and basically a legend in the department. Jason had attended all of Mike’s classes on investigative techniques when he was an aspiring detective. He was hard on all his students, but Jason always thought he was particularly aggressive with the Black officers. “You don’t think I deserved my promotion, I know. Fine. I get it. But you have to give me some respect when I’m right.”
“You’re not right yet. You have a theory. We’ll see whether it’s accurate, but it’s still just speculation,” Mike shot back coldly.
“But there is a pattern. I saw it, and you didn’t. Nobody did. Am I wrong?” Jason stared at the back of Mike’s head, noting the thin patches of hair that revealed the scalp below. He waited patiently, just as Mike had taught him in the classroom, and in their car.
“I can’t say you’re wrong on this, Dickson. I’m not ready to say you’re right, but you might be, and if you are, then it’s too important to keep to ourselves. Just don’t get cocky, because if you’re wrong, the Commissioner is going to remind us both about it for the rest of our careers, and yours has a lot more years left than mine. And if you’re right, then we’re in for some long nights.”
"This is a stellar follow up to Righteous Assassin. The pacing is perfect and the character interactions are authentic and entertaining. With a tight plotline and plenty of action, this is indeed an excellent crime thriller. Can't wait to read more of Stoneman's cases. Highly recommend!" - Anna Willett, award-winning horror and suspense author Kindle Book Award Semi-Finalist / Chanticleer CLUE Award Short List
WHO IS THE DEAD GIRL THEY FISHED OUT OF THE EAST RIVER?
Is she just a drug-addicted hooker? Medical examiner Michelle McNeill thinks it's a murder, and NYPD Homicide detective Mike Stoneman agrees. When Mike and his partner, Jason Dickson, start to dig into the case, they run into unexpected obstacles that point in a disturbing direction.
In order to uncover the truth, Mike and Jason must go outside the lines and risk their own reputations, jobs - and lives. This case is one that Mike can't walk away from, no matter how much he wants to.
Harry Bosch fans will love this fast-paced police thriller from award-winning author Kevin G. Chapman. Book #1 in the Mike Stoneman Thriller series, Righteous Assassin, was named one of the top 20 Mystery/Thrillers of 2019 by the Kindle Book Review. The series continues here.
THE NEXT DAY WAS SATURDAY and Jason and Ray were in the Bronx. They were still waiting on identification of their Jane Doe floater, so that case was on hold while they tracked down whoever killed Raul Rosario. They set up a makeshift command center inside the bodega, behind the crime scene tape and separated from the six local news crews who were set up for live remotes outside. The story was the lead on every local news channel and had been picked up by the national networks. Al Sharpton had, indeed, held a press conference that morning in which he accused the police of failing to give priority to the murder of a minority citizen. Apparently, a Black mayor in the city did not slow down Sharpton’s willingness to play the race card before the investigation was two days old. The command center’s location also had the advantage of being warm, while the press was relegated to the cold space outdoors.
Dickson and McMillian were debriefing pairs of uniformed officers about their interviews with local residents and the regulars at the local watering holes. They were hoping to find somebody who was willing to talk to the detectives about the local gang members. Dickson noted that every pair of uniforms included one that was either Black or Hispanic, which was statistically unlikely given the overall makeup of minorities within the department.
The two detectives were talking with one set of officers about their lack of progress canvassing the apartment building across the street when they were distracted by a commotion at the front door. Somebody was shouting and they could see a man through the glass, waving his arms and pushing against the officer who was guarding the door to make sure the press stayed outside. The man pushed the door halfway open, yelling, “This is my store!”
The officer pulled him back and the two continued wrestling as Jason and Ray both sprang up and rushed to the door to try to diffuse the situation, before the television news crews got video of a white cop beating up an unarmed Hispanic man. Jason was first through the door and immediately ordered the officer to stand down. He looked out toward the reporters and found himself staring into five high-definition video cameras. He smiled and waved as he patted the still-enraged man on the back and calmly escorted him inside the building. Once the door was closed, he lost the smile and demanded that the man explain why he was trying to push his way into a restricted crime scene.
“This is my store!” the man yelled as he glared up at the much taller Black man.
“Who are you?” Jason inquired as calmly as he could manage.
“Luis Rosario,” the man shot back in a heavy Puerto Rican accent. He was short and stocky, with dark eyes and a thin moustache. He had on a bulky green parka and a black knit hat.
Jason furrowed his brows. “Are you related to Raul Rosario?”
“Yes. He’s my brother. We own this store together.” Mr. Rosario had calmed down slightly but was fidgeting and looking quickly back and forth at the two detectives, as if he was concerned that somebody was going to arrest him.
“Where have you been for the past two days?” Jason inquired skeptically.
“I was home in Puerto Rico. I saw the report on the news and flew back this morning.” The man was upset, and still semi-shouting, but Jason believed him.
“I’m sorry,” Jason soothed. “Please understand that we have a crime scene here and we’re investigating a murder. Can you show me some identification?”
Rosario looked annoyed, but dug into his bulky coat and extracted his wallet, from which he pulled out a driver’s license and handed it to Jason. After a few seconds of examination, Jason handed it back. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Rosario. I hope you understand that we will need to verify that you are really the brother of our deceased victim.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Rosario said reluctantly. “I’m just so angry!”
Jason shifted into treating this man as a potential witness. “Do you know of anyone who would want to kill your brother?”
“I know who killed him,” Rosario responded quickly.
Rosario looked down at the floor, then back up at Jason. “I don’t care anymore. I’ll tell you.”
Jason and Ray looked at each other, then back at the dead man’s brother.
“I told him not to take a stand. They said they would hurt us. But Raul wanted to organize the other store owners and fight back. He wanted to go to the police. They must have found out and came for him. They have no soul, these bastardos.”
“Who?” both Jason and Ray said simultaneously.
“El jefe mafioso.”
Lethal Voyage (#3)
"Filled with action, drama, and surprising twists, "Lethal Voyage" is a captivating addition to the Mike Stoneman series, guaranteed to delight readers old and new!" - InD'Tale Magazine (5-star Crowned Heart) WINNER of the 2021 Kindle Book Award (best mystery/thriller)
A DEAD BODY can ruin a vacation. . . .
It was a suicide, wasn't it? . . . Maybe the on-board production of Chicago isn't the only place people are getting murdered!
NYPD homicide detective Mike Stoneman and medical examiner Michelle McNeill just want a relaxing cruise. But, Michelle is convinced that there is foul play at work in the death of a Broadway talent agent's wife.
The ship's head of security wants to keep it quiet. But, how many bodies can he cover up during one sailing? When it looks like Michelle might be the next victim, Mike needs to find the killer and keep Michelle alive for the end of this Lethal Voyage.
"Move over Harry Bosch, there's a new guy in town. Detective Michael Stoneman can match wits with Harry any day of the week." -- - "The Authors Show"
Don't miss the next installment in the Mike Stoneman Thriller series!
Ten minutes later, she heard the front door open, then close quietly. She heard four faint beeps as John disabled the burglar alarm. She had done the same when she arrived, then re-set it before she came upstairs. She had watched John do it when he brought her home. It was a simple four-digit code, and the numbers were his birthday. It was after midnight and she knew John would be creeping upstairs soon, hoping not to wake his wife. He told her many times how he had perfected the routine. He would go to the bathroom to change into his pajamas, which he kept on a shelf there. Then, he would slip into bed without turning on a light or making a sound.
She waited patiently, the cool wooden butt of the pistol in her hand. With a soft whirr, the air conditioning kicked to life, fluttering the end of a toilet paper roll. She detected a slight creak from a nearby floorboard. The bathroom door crept inward, blocking her view of the threshold. When the door swung shut, she could dimly make out John’s silhouette against the soft green glow of his electric razor, charging next to the sink.
“Were you fucking Cheryl tonight?”
Although she whispered, John jumped, then spun around, squinting into the darkness.
His voice came out in a hissing whisper. “Holy shit! Is that you? What the fuck are you doing here? How did – you have to leave. What if Maddy wakes up?” She could hear the panic in his voice and see his head turning quickly from her direction to the bathroom door, listening for movement from the bed. She wasn’t worried about Madeline waking up, but she was happy to keep up the charade.
She stood up slowly, keeping perfectly balanced on her bare feet. “Don’t worry, I had to be with you, John. I love you. How could you cheat on me?”
“What?” John’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness, but he couldn’t see any details, except for the reflection of the green charger light off her eyes. “Jesus! No. I told you I needed to work out the details with Maddy. I’m working on it.”
“I know you were with Cheryl. I saw you at the motel.”
“What?” John tried to control his voice, but failed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She took two steps forward, until she was inches from John. She smelled his cologne – the one he always put on after having sex with her so his wife wouldn’t smell her on his body. She looked up into his shadowy face, the .357 Magnum dangling next to her right thigh. She slid her left arm around his neck, drawing him toward her. Some of Madeline’s spattered blood transferred from her blouse to John’s white dress shirt.
“Oh, John. I’ll go soon. I just had to see you.” She pulled against his neck and felt him lean in toward her. As he whispered something she didn’t listen to, she brought the gun up until the muzzle touched his chin. At the same instant, she stepped back a half-step and squeezed the trigger.
The explosion was louder than she expected, and the kickback from the discharge jerked the gun out of her hand. John’s body slumped forward as she stepped sideways, allowing him to fall with a moist thwack. Dark lines quickly formed in the indentations surrounding the 12-inch square ceramic tiles next to what was left of John’s head. Bits of bone, blood, and brain matter speckled her face and hair, but the bulk of the tissue covered the far wall and mirror.
She looked down at the gory scene and sighed. It was sad, really. John could have made her so happy, and she would have made him such a good wife. She shook her head and picked up a light blue washcloth, then carefully wiped her hands. She cleaned the butt and the trigger of the gun, removing the spattered blood as well as her fingerprints. She used the cloth to hold the gun and pushed it into John’s dead hand, pressing his fingers into the wood and chrome and placing his index finger on the trigger. Lifting the gun and his hand until his arm was fully extended, she pressed his finger into the trigger and squeezed. The bullet burrowed into the ceiling as John’s arm dropped back to the floor. The gun skittered across the tiles, settling beneath the waving toilet paper.
She walked carefully back into the bedroom. There, she retrieved the knife and carried it to the bathroom, where she wiped some of the blood from the blade onto John’s pants. Then, she repeated the process of wiping away her fingerprints, placing the knife in John’s hand, and squeezing his prints onto the hilt. She used the blue cloth to pick up the knife by its blade and tossed it back onto the bed. She retrieved her shoes and tucked the blood-smeared towel and washcloth into the waistband of her skirt.
As she carefully walked toward the door, she passed Madeline’s dressing table. She plucked a tissue from its box and used it to remove the top of a small heart-shaped porcelain container. Inside, she saw the glint of a gemstone in the moonlight filtering in through the window. She replaced the lid and picked up the jewelry box, shaking it softly to hear the tinkling sound coming from inside. Then she left the room, leaving no footprints.
Fatal Infraction (#4)
WINNER of the 2022 CLUE Award (best police procedural)
He took a knee for social justice. Now he's dead. Controversial quarterback Jimmy Rydell’s body was found naked – on the Central Park carousel. Who killed him? How did he get there two days after he disappeared? . . . And why was the body frozen? Jimmy’s team just wants to move on, after collecting on the $20 million insurance policy. Jimmy’s teammate – the one who threatened to kill him – swears he wasn’t there. Jimmy’s bodyguard had the night off. Somebody is going down for this if NYPD homicide detectives Mike Stoneman and Jason Dickson can find a theory that explains all the bizarre facts. They just hope the case doesn’t tear the team, and the City, apart first.
EVERYONE AGREED THAT JIMMY should not have slept with Nate’s girl. Within the team, some things were out of bounds. As the quarterback and leader of the offense, Jimmy should have known better – or at least kept it a secret. Nobody was surprised when it blew up.
Nate Bedford, a five-year veteran wide receiver, was nearly dressed when Jimmy Rydell strolled into the locker room at the practice facility. A dozen players lounged in the comfy chairs in front of the video game consoles, shouting at the screens and at each other. A dozen more were in various stages of undressing or dressing. They were halfway through their three weeks of voluntary spring practices. Jimmy was accompanied by four offensive linemen who had been lifting weights with him after the organized drills ended. Jimmy’s shirtless upper body glistened with sweat, emphasizing each cut in the dark muscle of his chiseled physique.
“Lookin’ good, Jimmy,” linebacker Billy Davis called out as he wagged a finger at the quarterback.
Nate nudged Austin Riley, a rookie free agent who was trying to make the team. “Look at him. Showin’ off. There’s more to life than muscles.” Riley smartly said nothing and turned away.
Jimmy took two steps toward Nate, holding his workout jersey in his left hand. “Some people prefer some muscle instead of your skinny white ass. I know Candi does.”
“You shut yer mouth!” Nate’s Louisiana accent always became more pronounced the angrier he got. He took a stride toward Jimmy, fire in his eyes. A large arm, belonging to the all-pro center Kevin Mahwah, reached out and blocked him momentarily.
“Keep a lid on it, Nate.”
While Nate stopped, Jimmy kept walking. Five feet of carpet and one low wooden dressing bench separated them. “You got a problem with me? Huh, Nate?”
“You’re damn right! Somebody’s gotta teach you some respect.”
“You want a piece of me?” Jimmy flung his jersey to the floor and held up a hand, gesturing for Nate to step forward.
Nate showed off his cat-quick reflexes by stepping onto the bench and launching himself toward Jimmy in the same motion. As a quarterback, Jimmy was accustomed to large men hell-bent on his destruction assaulting him. He took a quick half-step back, planted his left leg, and landed a right jab dead center on Nate’s nose before the two athletes went tumbling to the floor in a knot of arms and legs.
Nate was an inch taller than Jimmy, but leaner and lighter. When Jimmy rolled on top of him, a dazed and bleeding Nate had no chance of gaining the upper hand. Jimmy delivered two sets of right-left combination punches to the side of Nate’s face before a gang of teammates grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him off.
Nate struggled to his feet, a stream of blood from his nose covering the front of his face, neck, and white polo shirt. As he gained his balance, he spewed a torrent of expletives and lunged toward Jimmy, but two large pairs of arms held him back. “You bastard! You don’t touch Candi again, ya hear me?! I’ll kill you! I’ll cut your dick off!”
Everyone in the locker room was silent as the two men stared at each other across ten feet of empty space. Nate had caught nine touchdown passes from Jimmy the prior season. The team was counting on him to be their primary deep threat in the season ahead. Chemistry between a quarterback and a wide receiver was both essential and fragile. This wasn’t good. But it was private. What happened inside the locker room stayed between the players. That was an unwritten rule. Of course, so was the rule about not sleeping with other players’ girlfriends.
Jimmy shrugged off the hands that were lightly restraining him and waved dismissively toward his most reliable receiver. “Candi’s all yours.”
“Yer damn right she is!”
Jimmy walked away toward the showers, accompanied by three of the offensive linemen with whom he had entered. Everyone else exhaled and returned to the normal buzz of conversation, now a bit more hushed. Someone tossed Nate a white towel, which was quickly stained red as he attempted to wipe the blood off his face and shirt. He said nothing, but glared at Jimmy’s back until the quarterback rounded a corner of green-tinted marble tile and disappeared from view.
Every player in the room had an opinion about Jimmy – and about Nate. Most were worried the two teammates might not be able to put this incident, or their underlying conflicts, behind them in order to move forward on the field. None of them imagined it would be the last time they saw Jimmy alive.
Perilous Gambit (#5)
A Las Vegas murder mystery from Kevin G. Chapman, winner of the 2021 Kindle Book Award. "The narrative's pacing is outstanding, its tautly written plot is full of surprises. . . . In the end, readers are left with a heart-pounding nail-biter keeping you on the edge of your seat." -- BookPleasures.com
A murder can sure put a damper on a Vegas wedding party.
An unexpectedly hurried marriage in Las Vegas was not what Jason and Rachel planned, but circumstances made it their best option. At least Rachel would have her brother, Jackie, there for the happy occasion. Jason had to find out eventually that Jackie is a drag performer. That surprise turns out to be the least of Rachel's worries.
When the star of the drag show is murdered and Jackie is accused of the crime, Jason and his partner, Mike Stoneman, find themselves out of their jurisdiction and all-in on a complex case that stretches from Nevada to New York to South Dakota and back again. When somebody tries to kill Jackie, being arrested and having to miss the show take a backseat to staying alive.
All this excitement could scuttle the wedding - and could get them all killed - unless Mike and Jason figure away to take the heat off of Jackie and convince the killers they've made a terrible mistake. But they are not taking no for an answer, and Mike has to risk everything on a gamble that could save the day - or end in tragedy.
Mimi LaRee walked quickly past the margarita bar, a Johnny Rockets, and several souvenir shops, the big red letters of the CVS drugstore welcomed pedestrians into a small oasis of normal reality within the alternate dimension that was the Vegas Strip. Inside, Mimi made a bee-line to the make-up section against the far wall. Her platinum-blonde wig and blue sequined gown made her stand out like a neon sign inside a dark theater.
Outside on the plaza, Rick and Eddie stopped next to a kiosk selling colorful frozen drinks in thin, three-foot-long plastic glasses. They had a clear view of the only public exit from the CVS. They had been watching the stage door back at the Mardi Gras, hoping one of their two targets would come out to get something to eat or get some air between shows. Failing that, they planned to wait until after the late show and take the first one who exited. They didn’t have a specific plan for how they would isolate their target. Rick was improvising.
“It doesn’t look like she’s getting food,” Eddie said as he ogled two brunettes in matching gymnastics leotards saunter past, their ass cheeks peeking out below the tight fabric.
“He,” Rick corrected.
“Whatever! I can’t keep the queers straight. Looks like a chick to me, so I’m sticking with ‘she.’ I’m pretty sure that’s how they say it.” Eddie glared defiantly at Rick, who was the boss of this operation. But Eddie viewed him as merely an aging obstacle blocking him from moving up in Freddy Costanzo’s organization.
“You spend a lot of time around drag queens?” Rick shot back calmly. While Eddie fumed, Rick surveyed the area and planned their move. Between the souvenir shop and the CVS, a gap in the plaza wall opened into a narrow corridor. Signs above the entrance pointed toward public restrooms that were seldom occupied, since the surrounding casinos offered much more attractive options. Rick nudged Eddie with his elbow. “Get across there and see whether there’s anybody in the ladies’ room. If there is, wait for ’em to leave and don’t let anybody else in. When it’s empty, give me a wave and then wait for me inside.”
Rick watched Eddie disappear down the corridor. He kept one eye on the restroom and one on the door to the CVS as four minutes ticked by. Eddie emerged from the restroom after a woman wearing a hair net and a housekeeper’s uniform and waved to Rick. Mimi had not left the drugstore. When Rick saw the platinum blonde wig bouncing away from the cash register toward the door, he made his move, intercepting Mimi outside the drugstore’s awning.
“Hey, Sugar, if you got five minutes, I have a guy looking to give you five hundred for a private photo.”
Mimi stopped abruptly, allowing Rick to take a step ahead before slamming on the brakes. When Rick turned back, Mimi glared through heavily painted eyes, then responded in a fully masculine voice. “You obviously have no idea who you’re talking to.”
“Oh, but I do,” Rick replied smoothly. “You’re Mimi LaRee, star of the drag revue at the Mardi Gras. You’re the hottest thing going, and my guy wants to give you a big tip. You up for it? I promise he’s harmless. It’ll just take a minute.” Rick assumed a relaxed, nonthreatening posture and held his hands at his sides, palms out.
Mimi sized Rick up skeptically. She was wary of anyone putting her in a vulnerable position, but Rick was well-dressed and didn’t look threatening. “Lemme see the money.” Mimi stood with her arms crossed. Rick reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a thick roll of bills with a hundred on the outside. He snapped off the rubber band and peeled off five bills, which quickly curled back into tubular form in his left hand as he returned the remainder of the wad to his pocket. He extended the money toward Mimi, who stared at the cash, thinking about the new pair of shoes she had wanted to buy the day before, but passed because of the balance in her checking account. “Where?”
Rick smiled. “Right around the corner. My guy’s waiting in a private space.”
Rick led the way, trusting that Mimi wouldn’t run off with the money. He could hear her heels clacking heavily on the concrete behind him. Mimi opened her purse, stuffed the bills inside, and tilted up the handle of the little .22 pistol she kept handy. It wasn’t much of a gun, but at close range it could do enough damage to get her out of a tight spot.
When Rick turned down the corridor and stopped in front of the ladies’ room, he held the door open with a smile, inviting Mimi to step inside.
Mimi hesitated. She knew better than to step inside without knowing what was beyond the door. But the idea of a fan who had been fantasizing about her and was willing to pay so much for a brief encounter was flattering. Mimi didn’t have much money in the little gold purse, aside from her recently acquired five hundred. Muggers didn’t generally carry wads of cash and give out five hundred dollars before rolling their victim. But there were plenty of hateful bastards who came in all shapes and sizes. She scanned the interior, which seemed vacant. Then, a voice called out from the far corner, inside the disabled persons’ stall.
“In here, Mimi.”
She looked back. Rick was leaning against the door, preventing anyone from entering to interrupt the meeting. She clutched the gold purse with her left hand resting on the open top, next to the little gun.
As soon as she entered the stall and saw Eddie, holding a black pistol, she reached for her .22. Eddie saw the movement.
The flash of light and the stabbing pain occurred simultaneously. By the time Mimi’s knees impacted the tile floor, a second blow from the butt of Eddie’s pistol to the back of her head knocked off the platinum wig, already stained red from the flowing blood released by the first impact.
Rick rushed to the threshold of the stall and saw the crumpled figure on the floor and the spreading crimson pool forming next to Mimi’s head. “We’re going to have a hard time getting any information out of that now.”
About the author:
Kevin G. Chapman is an attorney specializing in labor and employment law and an independent author. In 2021, Kevin finished the first five books in the Mike Stoneman Thriller series. Righteous Assassin (Mike Stoneman Thriller #1), was named one of the top 20 Mystery/Thrillers of 2019 by the Kindle Book Review and was a finalist for the Chanticleer Book Review CLUE award. Deadly Enterprise (Mike Stoneman Thriller #2) was also named a top-20 Mystery/Thriller of 2020 by the Kindle Book Review and made the Short-List for the 2020 CLUE Award. Book #3, Lethal Voyage, was the winner of the 2021 Kindle Book Award and a Finalist for the CLUE and for the InD’Tale Magazine RONE Award. Book #4 in the series, Fatal Infraction, was named Best Police Procedural of the year by the Chanticleer Book Review, and book #5 (Perilous Gambit) was published November 24, 2021. Kevin has also written a serious political drama, A Legacy of One, originally published in 2016, which was short-listed for the Chanticleer Somerset Award for literary fiction. A Legacy of One was re-published in a newly re-edited and revised second edition in 2021. Currently, Kevin is working on a stand-alone mystery/thriller titled Dead Winner, expected out in late 2022, and a romantic thriller titled A Good Girl. Kevin is a resident of Central New Jersey and is a graduate of Columbia College and Boston University School of Law. Readers can contact Kevin via his website:
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