Leave A Good-Looking Corpse
The first Surf City Mystery
From the journals of T. R. Macdonald:
It isn’t every night that a wet, bleeding man leads the hostess into her party at gunpoint…not even in Hollywood and this Orange County, home of Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm and the Crystal Cathedral. Hell, even our baseball team is the Angels. A drop of blood ran down the side of my face. I let it drip off my chin, figuring it made me look tough.
That wet, bleeding gun-waver is me, T.R. Macdonald, and I’m a broker/analyst based in NYNY, or I was until I got a phone call about my wife. I walked off the trading floor, packed a bag and started driving for the left coast. After I got there things turned weird, then weirder. Some the weirdness was ok, but a lot of it was very nasty; for example, right after the party I had to shoot a kid.
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