By Lester Dent
What could you do in case you have been a dead ringer for a dictator?
If you have been small-time grifter Walter Harsh, improving in a sanatorium with a damaged arm, you'd hearken to a proposition which can internet you a funky $50,000 for impersonating the South American strongman you resemble. You'd beware whilst the dictator's sultry mistress begun placing the strikes on you. And at the hours of darkness, while not anyone used to be observing, chances are you'll simply hatch a plot to get all of it for your self: the cash, the woman, and the stash of stolen loot she's conspiring to spirit out of the country...
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When poison from a tropical plant places eight-month-old Acito, whose identify skill "little turtle," right into a San Diego health center, baby abuse investigator Bo Bradley is drawn into her 3rd suspenseful case (following Strawgirl). based on Andy LaMarche, a health center pediatrician and Bradley's made up our minds suitor, Acito's caretakers couldn't have poisoned the newborn by chance. This casts suspicion on Acito's mom, Chac, a bar singer who visited her son in advance of he fell unwell. Bo meets Chac in Tijuana and springs to think she should not have poisoned her son, yet this turns into difficult to turn out after the girl collapses and dies on degree. because the San Diego police aren't performing on Acito's case and the Mexican police officers don't care in regards to the dying of one other ex-prostitute, Bo focuses her energetic interest on Chac's buddies and her American husband, who has escaped from from a Louisiana legal. Padgett expertly crafts this secret, placing her sleuth within the needful life-threatening occasions. What units her tale aside, although, is her description of the workings of public baby security and her convincing portrayal, from the interior, of Bo's efforts to paintings and reside with manic depression.
(Copyright 1995 Reed enterprise info, Inc. )
(Book 3 of the Bo Bradley Mysteries sequence)
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Additional resources for Honey in His Mouth
Grace winced. Like Beltan, Vani loved Travis—although for different reasons. For the knight, it was a matter of his heart. For Vani, it was a matter of fate. And they had both lost him. A weight pressed down on Grace. She turned away. ” They were silent for a time. “The Mournish will be leaving Tarras soon,” Vani said at last. ” Grace turned back, startled. ” Vani smiled, but it was a bitter expression. “I would think my fate lies with you and your companions. ” Whatever the tension between the T’gol and Beltan, Vani was her friend.
That was very diplomatic of you, Your Majesty,” Beltan whispered with a grin as they left the palace. These words took Grace by surprise. On retrospect, she had to admit it was a good solution. Maybe she was better at this whole royalty thing than she gave herself credit for. Maybe it was in her blood. Sometimes, long before the others awoke, Grace would slip from her bed, part the gauzy curtains that were the only barrier between her and the last breath of night, and step onto a balcony outside the room.
The bright, baleful form of the wraithling. And the figure emblazoned on the tapestry in the forbidden upstairs room: ancient, primal, its one staring eye filled with desire and hate. It was Mohg, Lord of Nightfall. The Old God who feared the coming of men and tried to claim Eldh for his own, only to be banished from the world by the alliance of the Old and New Gods—an alliance that could never happen again, for the Old Gods had since faded into the Twilight Realm. Somehow Mohg had found his way to Earth; his likeness in the Beckett-Strange Home for Children had proved that.