Copyright 2004 Bob McElwain
Published by Foremost Press at Smashwords
Smashwoods Edition, License Notes
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Jack shook what he hoped was a teaspoonful of Folger’s instant into the cup, poured hot water from the electric coffeepot, then took a sip.
“Damn,” he muttered. The smile on his lips was reflected in eyes the color of the coffee. He tried to remember the last time he had got it right. He worked at it. He didn’t want to think about the two weeks he had booked in the Fiji Islands. If he did, he would have to consider canceling in order to make time for another case.
When he opened the kitchen slider and stepped out onto the redwood deck, the brisk breeze slapped the tails of the tan cotton shirt against the canary-yellow shorts. He leaned against the railing, letting the late afternoon sun toast his back, as he gazed at that sprawling part of Los Angeles locals call the Valley.