The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 40k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy

CHAPTER 10
 
On Friday, Jen and Molly worked all day inside their office, doing research on their computers.
 
Finally, late in the afternoon, Molly stood up and said, “Let’s go out. We need to unwind.”
 
Jen looked up. “Okay, I’ll see if the boys want to come.”

“No,” Molly said. “Girls night out. Just you and me.”

“And do what?” Jen asked.

“Well, it’s Friday. My VFW post has an all you can eat fish fry every Friday and also a country band. For an extra $2 you can add shrimp.”

“I don’t know,” Jen replied. “Do you want tom hang out with a bunch of old folks?”

“Wait a minute,” Molly cautioned. “I hang out there. On Fridays, the older vets come for the fish. The young vets come for the band and to dance. Besides, most of the fish is take out.”

“How do they have a dance during the pandemic?” Jen asked.

“Well, they can only allow a certain number of guests inside, something like 25 or 50 percent,” Molly answered. “Then in a large room they placed marks six feet apart in rows. They only allow line dancing, and everyone stays follows social distancing and wears masks.”

“I haven’t tried dancing in my prothesis yet,” Jen said. “I don’t know if I can.”

“We don’t have to dance,” Molly suggested. “We can listen to the music and drink beer. Besides, we can watch some of those young guys dance. Some of them are hot.”

Jen finally relented and volunteered to drive. Jen decided that Molly was right; some of the guys were hot, the band was good, and the beer was cold. The fish was white fish, bit there was plenty of it. After an hour, a guy walked over to Molly. “Hello, my name is Marty Hennessey. Would you like to dance?” he asked through his facemask.

Molly shook her and pulled up her pant legs to reveal her two protheses. Marty pulled up his to reveal a major protheses on his left leg, extending down from just below his hip.

“Okay,” Molly conceded. “You got me beat, but I haven’t danced since I got these.”

“No problem,” Marty answered. “I’ll show you how.”

“No, no, no,” protested Molly. “I don’t think so.”

Marty bend down and leaned on the table. “What was your rank when you got discharged from the military?”

Molly was taken back by the question. “I was a staff sergeant.”

Marty straightened up. “Well, I was a captain and I’m giving you a direct order to get your ass out on the dance floor, sergeant.” Reluctantly, Molly stood up. Marty half led and half pulled Molly to the dance floor. All the dances were line dances, and Molly struggled to keep up. She did stubble a couple of times, but Marty caught her. Jen was certain the last fall was fake. Marty stood behind Molly and held her waist to steady her. Molly moved his arms tighter around her. After a few minutes, Molly mastered the steps without falling. No one objected to them not social distancing since several other couples did the same.

As the next line dance started, Molly and Marty walked and pulled a protesting Jen onto the dance floor. Molly stood on one side holding Jen’s hand while Marty held her other hand. It was awkward at first, but soon Jen was keeping up without falling. Once she got the hang of it, she resumed social distancing. After a few dances, Jen headed back to her table, turning down a couple of offers to dance on the way.

When the band took a break, Molly walked over to Jen. “Don’t worry about driving me home. Marty said he’d give me a ride.” She winked at Jen. “I might go over to his place for a nightcap.”
Jen sternly asked, “Molly do your panties fall off every time you meet a good-looking guy?”
Molly smiled. “What panties?”

Jen laughed. “Sorry, for a minute I forgot who I was talking to. Okay, but send me a text or call so I’ll know where to go to claim the body.”

Marty walked over with another young man. “Ladies, this Navada Lucas, my best friend. He still has both legs, but he’s okay.” Marty made introductions all around. Jen took an instant liking to Navada. She could tell he had a sense of humor. He had drawn a set of lips on his facemask, but they were a woman’s lips—bright red. The four of them danced a few more times.

Finally, Jen said, “Folks, I’m not use to this, and my legs are killing me, so I need to sit down.”

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 40k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. I found a major error in Chapter 9 and had to rewrite it. Here it is:

CHAPTER 9

The next day, Jen got a call from Special Agent Malcolm Andrews. He had worked with Jen when she infiltrated the hate group, The High Priests of Phinehas. “I want to talk with you about finding out who put out the contracts on you and Molly,” he said.

“How do we do that?” Jen asked. “Pete said he couldn’t trace the contract.”

“That’s partially true,” Malcolm answered. “When someone shows POD that the hit was made, we can trace the payment.”

“What’s POD mean?” Jen asked.

“Normally it means Payable on Death, but in this case it means Proof of Death,” Malcolm answered.
“So, when Molly and I are killed, you’ll be able to arrest our killers?”

Malcolm laughed. “Something like that. We want to fake your deaths and show POD so whoever put out the contract will pay us. Then we can trace it and make the arrest.”

“So, you want to kill us?”

Malcolm laughed again. “Yeah. It must look real. POD is a photograph and or a newspaper article. Easy-peasy.”

“Okay,” Jen said. “Let’s do it.”

A few days later, Malcolm came to Jen’s home to discuss the details of the fake assassination. The FBI would us Ms. Camille Kousoulas, an FBI makeup expert, to create real looking wounds on Jen and Molly. Cam, the name she prefers, worked with Jen when she went undercover as an old woman. The FBI would create a video that looks like a security video from a front door. They would release the video and photographs to the local newspapers. Once the hit is on the news, Pete can go on the dark web to complete the deal. Once the payment is made, the FBI can figure out who set the contract.

A few days later, Cam came over and made masks of Jen and Molly. A week later, Agent Malcolm came over with the video. The FBI used professional actors. The video appeared to be from a door security camera. Malcolm explained that the FBI would release the video to the press who would then air it on the news. The video showed a car parked at a curb when a gunman walked up and fired four shots through the window. The gunman wore a hoodie and a mask making it difficult to recognize him.

The plan was simple enough. The FBI would stage then shooting. An agent dressed like the gunman would fire four shots into the driver side window and then escape. Someone, anyone would call 911 and the police would come along with an ambulance. An anonymous tip would bring the news. The ambulance would be manned by FBI agents. They would remove the two dummies that look very much like Jen and Molly with serious head wounds. The FBI would provide the video to the news stations. The shooting would make the morning news. This would provide the proof of death needed to fulfil the contracts.

The FBI would then send in the video copied from the news along with a newspaper clipping to the dark web under a fictious name to claim the contract. The FBI put Jen and Molly in a safehouse until the sting was over. It didn’t take long.

After a couple of days, Malcolm called Jen at the safehouse. “We got him,” Malcolm said.

“What? So soon?” Jen asked. “Who was it?”

“His name is William Pasternak,” Malcom answered. “Does that name ring a bell?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jen answered.

“You probably knew him as Speer McGarry,” Malcolm suggested.

“Oh, yeah,” Jen replied. “He was the computer geek at the alt-right boot camp. He was into ID theft and fraud, I believe. I thought he was already in prison.”

“He was out on bail waiting his trial,” Malcolm answered. “He put out the contracts on you and Molly. It figures. He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty. He had to hire someone.”

Jen and Molly left the safe house and returned to their office in Jen’s house. The next day Jen and Molly went to the police station to work with a sketch artist to see if they could come up with a picture of the driver who forced them into the pond. 

I read an article from the Motley Fool written by Maurie Backman. She wrote about the three mistakes you might make during your working years that will haunt you in retirement. She listed: thinking you'll fall back on Social Security, not saving from an early age and playing it safe with investments. Now I’m no financial wiz, but I think she missed the mark by a long shot. Here some regrets she didn’t mention:

Loaning money to your brother-in-law.
Not paying off your debt to a loan shark.
Sending money to some guy in Nigeria.
Not having a prenup with your first wife.
Not paying your taxes.
Betting your nest egg on a hot tip at the racetrack.
Taking all your money out of Apple and investing in Eastern Airlines stock.
Throwing away the winning lottery ticket before checking the numbers.
Starting as an Uber driver with a rickshaw.
Stealing the identity of a person on the FBI ten most wanted list.
​
I’m sure there are many more regrets, but time and space doesn’t permit me to list them all.

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 40k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. I made few changes to Chapter 8 for this second draft. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 8  (Cont.)
 
Jen immediately called Molly to let her know what she had learned from Pervert Pete. “So that rattle snack wasn’t a prank?”
 
“I think not,” Jen answered.
 
The next day Jen and Molly pulled into the driveway in a rented car. Jen took out her house keys and opened her door. “Shit,” she said.

“What happened?” Molly asked.

“I dropped my keys on the floor.” Just as Jen bent down to retrieve her keys, a bullet smashed the rear window, passed over her head by inches and exited out the front windshield. Both women ducked down as far as possible as a second bullet whizzed through the car, sending glass flying over the two.

“Who the fuck is shooting?” Molly yelled.

“The hell if I know,” Jen answered. “We need to get out of the car and into the house.”

“How fast can you run in prosthetics?” Molly asked without waiting for an answer. “I’m not moving until the police show up. Molly pulled out her cellphone and tried to dial. Her hands shook so much that she missed dialed twice. Jen grabbed the phone out of her hands and dialed 911.

The police arrived quickly, one patrol car followed a few minutes later by three more. One of them was Johan. They searched the neighborhood and once satisfied that the danger had passed, escorted shaking Jen and Molly inside the house. The incident triggered Molly’s PTSD. Jen held her tight and tried in vain to calm her down. It took nearly thirty minutes.

“Okay, this time the attacker was more professional,” Johan said. “We find the spot from where he fired. It was a roof top of a house that is for sale. It was nearly four hundred yards. Probably a high-powered rifle with a scope. The sniper picked up his brass, so we don’t know the caliber. We’ll know more when we find the bullet.”

When things quieted down, Molly told Jen, “I’m going to get a gun.”

“Molly, you have PTSD,” replied Jen. “You can’t legally buy a gun.”

“I know a guy,” Molly said.

The next day, an old pickup truck drove into the driveway. Hoyt Goodrich, the commander of The High Priests of Phinehas, a violent hate group, and the ex-lover of Molly, stepped out holding a small box. Jen saw him in their security monitor. “This is the guy you called?” she said to Molly.
Molly stood up and grabbed her cane. “Hell, yeah. I knew he could help me get an unregistered weapon.”

“Molly, it’s illegal,” Jen protested. “We could lose our license.”

“Shut up,” Molly snapped as she headed for the front door. “You’ve got one.”

Jen did shut up. Molly was right. In spite of the law and the protests of her boyfriends, she did have a gun. She opened her top desk drawer and pulled out the .38 and followed Molly. At least, she could have Molly’s back.

Hoyt didn’t come toward the front door. He just stood by his truck. Molly approached him. “Is that it?” she asked as she pointed at the small box in Hoyt’s hand.

“Yeah. The serial number has been filed off, and it hasn’t been used in a crime. It’s clean.”

Molly took the box and opened it, revealing a pistol. “A Glock 9mm. You couldn’t get a10mm automatic?”

Hoyt shook his head. “come on, Molly. I’m risking my parole as it is.”

“I know,” Molly said. “Thanks. I owe you one.” She kissed Hoyt on the cheek. Then she kissed him again on the lips. “I missed you, you know.”

“Yeah, I missed you too,” Hoyt said. “It wasn’t all bad, you know. Even though you did lie and used me.”

Molly chuckled. “I did. Then I was nearly killed.”

“I know,” Hoyt replied. “I felt really bad about that. I tried to find the Symths after what they did. I would have killed them.”

Molly smiled. “All things considered: the sex was great.”

Hoyt laughed. “It was that.”

Molly stared into Hoyt’s eyes and then reached out and touched his arm. Jen was watching from the front porch and came flying off into the front yard. “No, no, no,” she yelled. She reached the two and pulled Molly back. “We’re not going through this again,” she yelled at Hoyt. “You get out of my year or I’ll call the police. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re a felon.”

Hoyt held up his hand in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

At that moment, Jen realized that she had been waving her own illegal gun at Hoyt. She looked around and saw her neighbor across the street looking out her window. As Hoyt drove off, she grabbed Molly by the elbow and led her toward the house. “What the hell were you thinking?” she asked Molly.

“Come on, Jen,” Molly answered, “I have had any cock since I got out of the hospital. I thought we could hook up.”
​
“Not with that guy,” Jen replied. “He’s a racist, and you know it.”

​Extinct Creatures from 2020

I read with interest about the animals that are nearly extinct. The article listed the top ten. Lest we forget, there are other things that are either extinct of endangered. Here’s a list:

Honest Politicians. This species isn’t extinct but is considered endangered. It has been spotted on rare occasions. Sometimes reported sightings later proved to be false. Optimistic politician watchers are hoping for a comeback in 2021. They are difficult to capture, because dishonest politicians can lie their way out of most situations making voters believe that they are honest.  

Good Grammar. It’s unclear when this species began to become extinct, but sightings have been few and far between. It’s certainly endangered and may go extinct in 2021.

Misogyny Bosses. This species is most certainly in decline and is endangered even though there are still many out there. They exist in hostile work environments and are considered sexist. They are easily provoked and respond with sexual harassment and sexual assault. They once numbered in the thousands if not the millions. They are being hunted in the wild to extinction. Once in captivity, they appear in court and are soon eliminated. They are considered an invasive species and every attempt is made to eradicate them. They aren’t hard to find because they can’t resist exposing themselves (pun intended).

A Wall with Mexico. The species has not been sighted in 2017 or 2018. Wall watchers predict that there may be one found in 2020, but nothing is certain. What is certain is that Mexico won’t pay for it.

Balanced Budgets. This species is considered extinct at this date. The last one was spotted in 2001. Many budget watchers doubt we will ever see another balanced budget. They don’t survive in captivity and soon die if not cared for properly.

Free Trade. This species was last spotted in 2017 and has not been seen since. Most free trade watchers attribute this to the growth of free trade’s natural predator, tariffs. They are difficult to capture and escape easily.

Civility. Civility isn’t extinct, but it is endangered. The growth of social media has reduced the natural habitat of civility to the point that sighting of civility are becoming rare. It is hoped that it may make a comeback in 2021.

Common Sense. This species is another one that is endangered. While it used to roam across the continent, it is rarely seen in the Washington D.C. area and less frequently in other states.

Conspiracy Theories. This is another invasive species that has experienced unlimited growth. All efforts to eradiate conspiracy theories have usually backfired. The first sighting of this species isn’t known but was sighted with the sinking of the battleship Maine in 1898. This species is now well established and flourishing. Its numbers grew unabated during the Cold War. Subspecies include Watergate, the moon-landing, climate change, vaccinations and UFOs.

Real News. Real news, identified by objective and unbiased journalism, is endangered. It’s difficult to spot real news. It’s cousin, Fake News, is often mistake for Real News, but the two are very different. Real news is also often confused with its cousin, Conspiracy Theories.

Bipartisan Congressional Bills. This species was last spotted in 2017. It hasn’t been seen since and is feared extinct. Its rarity is compounded, because it takes two very different parents to mate in spite of their hatred of each other.

​There are, of course, many other critters that are endangered, but this list should help to identify the most endangered ones. 

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 38k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. I made few changes to Chapter 8 for this second draft. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 8
 
The next day was a rainy day in Georgia. Jen and Molly headed for their weekly PTSD group session. Jen was driving the Audie that Doc had given her for her last birthday. As they were passing a retention pond, the car behind them sped up alongside of Jen.

“What the Fuck, lady,” Jen yelled. “This is a no passing zone.”

Suddenly, the passing car swerved to the right, colliding with Jen’s car and force it off the road. The car slid down a small embankment and toward the retention pond. Jen braked to no avail as the car slide into the pond and began to sink. Jen and Molly both started screaming as water started to fill up the car. Both women stopped scream and arched their necks to keep their heads above the rising water.

Finally, Jen asked, “Molly, are you okay?”

“You mean am I dead?” Molly replied. “No, I’m still here.”

“I don’t think the car is sinking anymore,” Jen said. “I think this pond is only three or four feet deep. We can get out.” Slowly, both women forced their doors open and exited the vehicle. On the bank were a couple of people shouting and asking if they were injured. Jen recognized one person as a woman from their PSTD group therapy.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” Molly yelled. “We just picked a bad spot to have an accident.”

The woman waited as Jen and Molly walked out of the water. “That was no accident,” the woman said. “I saw the driver. She passed me to get to you and then tried to run you off the road. It was deliberate.”

“She?” Jen asked.

“Yeah,” answered the woman. “I saw her as she drove by me. It was a woman. I got part of the license plate. I already called 911. The police should be here any minute.”

The police arrived and took statements from both women. The offending driver didn’t stop. The police took a description from the witnesses who saw the incident. An ambulance arrived and started checking Jen and Molly to ensure they were okay. They wrapped them in warm blankets and had them sit in the ambulance as they took their vitals. A tow truck arrived and soon had Jen’s car out of the pond. Jen and Molly were retrieving their purses as Jonah pulled up with his partner, Ji-Su Lee,  a short Korean man. Jonah introduced him as Jessie Lee.

“Ms. McDowell, please retrieve the registration from your car, and I’ll initiate a BOLO for it,” Jessie said. “We’ll also start canvasing repair shops. The car that hit yours will be damaged by the looks of the damage done to your car. It looks like it was a blue car based on the color that scraped off onto your fender.”

“That’s correct, detective,” the witness said. “I saw it. It was a four-door sedan. I think it was a Toyoda. I also have a partial license plate.” She handed a slip of paper to Jessie.

“Great. Thanks,” Jessie said. “I’ll take care of the BOLO. Jonah, you want to start getting statements?” Jonah nodded.

As Jessie walked back to their car, Jonah whispered to Jen and Molly. “Jessie likes to think he’s in charge. Nice guy though.”

“Is he from Korea?” Jen asked. “He has a Southern accent.”

“Nope. Born and raised here in Atlanta,” answered Jonah. “I think he’s third or fourth generation. You should see him interrogate people. He acts and talks like he just got off the boat. It fools people and it work well for him.” Jen and Molly laughed.

Jonah decided he could get statements from Jen and Molly at home. He talked to the witnesses and took their statements. When he was finished, he arranged for a ride for the women so he could get to work on this case.
​
A few hours later, Jonah called to say they found the car. It had been stolen and then abandoned.
Later that evening, Jen got a call from detective Pete Barrett in vice. His job was to pose as a young teen on his computer and trap pedophiles. He uses the dark web to contact the pedophiles. His job earned him the nickname of Pervert Pete, that plus the way he leered at female cops.
 
“Jen, I hate to tell you this, but that incident was no accident,” Pete started. “You and Molly were targeted. Someone was trying to kill you.”

“What do you mean?” Jen asked.
 
“You know in my job I monitor the dark web. There’s a place there where people can post contracts for hits. Someone has put out a contract on you. I already informed the FBI. You’ll probably hear from Special Agent Andrews.”
 
Jen was shocked. “Why? Why me?”
 
“Well, think about it,” Pete said. “You went undercover and brought the FBI down on a far-right boot camp. You also were instrumental stopping a hate group bomber and sniper from killing a bunch of people here in Atlanta. That’s the why. That’d the easy part. The who is the big question.”
 
“Are people still mad about that?”
 
Pete went silent for a minute. Finally, he said, “At least you still have your sense of humor.”
 
“You can’t figure out who posted the hit?” Jen asked.
 
“No,” answered Pete. “Not yet. I can’t trace it on the dark web.”
 
“What do you mean, not yet?” asked Jen.
 
“The contract is open ended, meaning anyone can attempt to claim it,” Pete continued. “The attempt today was strictly amateurish. A professional would have checked out that pond to make sure it was deep enough. Next time you may not be so lucky.”
 
“How much is the contract?” Jen asked.
 
“$10,000,” Pete answered.
 
“For Molly and me?” Jen asked.
 
“No,” answered Pete. “It’s $10,000 each.”

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 37k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. I made few changes to Chapter 7 for this second draft. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 7
 
The weather had turned warmer in Georgia. There was no need for a coat. Jen and Molly were in their office, working. How do you want to start with Charlize’s case?” Molly asked Jen.

“Let’s retrace the route that Charlize and Maury took and see what we come up with,” Jen answered. “We’ll go to the parking garage first and start there.”

They drove to the parking garage at the address that Charlize gave them and found the two parking spots that Mr. Richards used. There was the BMW. The Honda was missing. Jen got out and placed a tracker on the car.  “I’ve got an idea,” Molly said. “Let’s go to the garage office. Jen drove to the office on the ground floor. Molly walked over to the window were an African American sat behind thick glass. “Pardon me, sir,” she said. The man looked up. “Could you tell me who is renting parking space 395?”

The man frowned. “Why?”

“Well, I’m not too steady on my feet because I have these prothesis, and I stumbled against his car and I think I may have scratched it.”

The man shook his head and looked at his computer. After a moment or two he printed out a page and handed it to Molly. On the paper was a copy of a driver’s license with a telephone number. “Just so you know,” the man said. “the garage assumes no responsibility for any damage that occurs while parking here.” It was a well-rehearsed line.

Molly got back into Jen car and handed her the printout. Jen looked at it and said, “What the fuck? His name isn’t Jimmy Richards, it’s Jimmy Richardson.”

“The license looks real,” Molly added. “It’s one of those new upgraded ones that are hard to forge. I’ll check it out when we get back to the office.”

After a few minutes at the office, Molly turned to Jen. “The name appears to be correct and so does the address.”

“So, this guy married Biju under a false name.” Jen said.

“It looks like it,” Molly answered. “We can check that out. It would be helpful if we knew Biju’s real name. They must have a marriage license on file.”

Jen and Molly searched all the records of marriages in Atlanta and surrounding villages and towns as well as wedding announcements in the papers. Nothing popped up.

“If they didn’t get married here, where would they go to get married?” Jen asked.

They both answered, “Vegas!”

After searching for a couple of hours, Jen and Molly located a marriage license for Jimmy Richards and Biju Huang. Biju’s birthplace as listed as Hong Kong, China. They were also able to locate the chapel where they were married. On a hunch, Jen asked if the chapel took pictures for the brides and grooms. They did. Soon Jen and Molly had copies of the photograph of the happy couple. Biju appeared to be in her twenties.

Jen and Molly went over what they found out so far. They put the pictures on the white board with magnets. Molly stood back and looked at the pictures for a minute. “No one has reported Biju missing. No body has turned up. How does an old fart like Jimmy find a young, beautiful bride like Biju?”

“Money and mail order,” Jen suggested.

“I thought that was illegal,” replied Molly. “Isn’t that sex trafficking?”

“No,” Jen answered. “It’s only sex trafficking when the brides are kidnapped or underage.”

“Okay,” said Molly. “She’s a mail order bride from Hong Kong. Jimmy paid her way and married her. She must have a green card. Right?”

“You’re right. The immigration bureau would have, but they won’t let us have a copy. I don’t think we need it. She may not have connected with Jimmy on her own. She probably went through some type of network or organization. I’ve seen those ads that say Asian brides looking for husbands. Maybe we can find out the middle-man that hooked Jimmy and Biju up.”

“Why do we need that?” Molly asked.
​
“I think we need to try and contact Biju’s family and find out what they know.”

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming; a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 36k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. I made few changes to Chapter 6 for this second draft. Here’s the second half of Chapter 6. Enjoy.
​
CHAPTER 6 (2nd half)
 
Molly turned to Jen. “That’s the same time as when the murder took place.”
 
“Well. If I was you,” Jen suggested. “I’d check out Frank’s alibi.”
 
“Can you give us his address?” Jen asked.  “HR hasn’t been very cooperative.”
 
“No sweat,” Milly answered as she pulled up a file on her computer and printed it out.
 
After a few more questions, Jen and Molly left. Once in the car, Jen asked, “What was that perfume that reeked in there?”
 
“I think it was Versace,” Molly answered. “I used to use it before I deployed.”
 
“Why did you stop using it?” Jen asked.
 
“Are you kidding?” Molly asked with a laugh. “I didn’t need it in Afghanistan. The men were so horny, they didn’t care if I used WD-40. And what was with that push up bra? Who does she think she’s kidding?”
 
Jen and Molly called Frank’s cell phone. He said he couldn’t talk right then, but he had a lunch break in thirty minutes and would gladly talk then. Jen used her GPS to locate the work site that Frank gave her—a construction site.
 
After asking around, Jen and Molly found Frank as he sat down on a pile of lumber to eat his sack lunch. The women introduced themselves and said they were investigating Ken wife’s murder. Jen was surprised when Frank seems nonchalant about it.
 
“I thought the police would get around to me eventually” Frank said.
 
“We’re not the police,” Jen replied. “We’re private investigators. We’ve been hired to look into this case. Our client doesn’t believe Ken rice killed his wife.”
 
“Oh, okay.” replied Frank. “So, anything I say is off the record?”
 
“You could say that,” Molly replied.
 
“I did say that.” Frank shot back. “It’s okay. Ask away.”
 
Jen started, “We understand that he fired you. Did that upset you?”
 
“What the hell do you think?” Frank answered. “Of course, it upset me. But in retrospect, I should thank Ken. It was the best thing that could have happened to me.”
 
“Why do you say that?” Molly asked.                 
 
“I had anger issues. Have had for years. I got into a few fights because of it. When Mr. Shader fired me, my union rep convinced me to get some anger management training. It was the best thing I ever did. I was having problems in my marriage, and the training helped. Ken did me a favor.”
 
“So, you didn’t kill him?” Molly asked point blank.
 
Frank laughed. “I thought that this was all about that. No. I didn’t kill her. Like I said, I should thank him.”
 
“Did Ken have any enemies?” Molly asked.
 
“I couldn’t say,” Frank answered. “I mean he was my boss, but I just stuck to my business and never really talked to him. I can’t think of anyone who’d want to kill his wife.”
 
As Jen and Molly walked back to their car, Molly said, “Well, that was a bust. He was our best suspect. Now what?”
 
“I don’t know,” Jen answered. “I guess we need to widen our circle of possible suspects. Maybe you need to follow up on whether Ken had any other affairs. You may want to start with that secretary, Mrs. Alexander.”