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Catching A Murderous Monster Ain't Going To Be Cheap. . . In Oklahoma Indian Territory just over the Kansas line, settlers are losing their heads. Literally, that is. Decapitated bodies are turning up and businessman Cyrus Warwick, who's aiming to make this town bigger than Dodge City, wants it to stop--bad for business, he says. It's bad for his only daughter too: she's the next victim of this "Monster of Osage." Warwick's $20,000 bounty goes up. . . . and all hell breaks loose. Asa Cain, Hardcase The good, the bad, and the just plain trigger-happy come looking to claim the bounty, and up goes the body count. But it's not Wyatt Earp or Doc Watson picking up the killer's trail--it's the bloodiest bounty hunter of them all, Asa Cain, and his undertaker partner Cemetery John. But what's at the end of this trail is something even Asa Cain never imagined in his darkest dreams . . . "Hodgson is a gift to western writing."--Roundup "A first-rate writer." --Dale L. Walker, past president, Western Writers of America
An old seafaring stranger with a heavy, locked op chest turns up from nowhere seeking lodgings with Hugh Moneylaws and his mother in Berwick-upon-Tweed, a rural English town bordering Scotland. One night he sends Hugh, a young solicitor's clerk, to meet a man instead of him, as he is too ill, but when Hugh arrives at the destination, he finds a man murdered. Hugh's law firm gets involved to resolve the mystery. Joseph Smith Fletcher (1863-1933) was an English author and journalist, one of the leading writers of detective fiction in the Golden Age. After his journalist career Fletcher first started writing poems, then historical fiction, and finally moved on to write detective mysteries.
Private Investigators Troy and Eva Winters are thrilled when Troy's sister, Sadie, announces that she and her family are moving to Elk River, only a twenty-five-mile drive from New Haven, where Troy and Eva live. Now, Sadie will be close to her family, and with their support, they can try to help her overcome her debilitating panic disorder of agoraphobia.Troy's joyful Christmas holiday is suddenly shattered when he receives a cryptic message from his ten-year-old niece, Willow. Her cry for help and the startling message that says, 'the bad guys are here, ' sends Troy's distress alarm into overdrive. It doesn't take him long to realize the deadly consequences that lie ahead.With Eva out of town, Troy sets out for Elk River on his own with no idea of the danger he'll soon be facing. He's close enough to Willow to know the threat is real, and the urgency in her voice confirms it. Just when a flicker of hope appears, Eva goes missing. Time is not on Troy's side and the clock is quickly ticking down.Private Investigators Troy and Eva Winters Thriller Series books are listed in chronological order below#1 Victim of a Delusional Mind#2 Dead Man's Money #3 Every Last Drop#4 Her Kill ListEditorial Review"Private investigators Troy and Eva Winters return to their Oregon bed-and-breakfast following a family Christmas celebration, then Troy gets a disturbing voicemail indicating that his sister's family is in danger. Eva has just left town on a new case and finishes up early, but before she can join her husband in finding out what's wrong at his sister's house, Eva investigates on her own and ends up missing. North has a real knack for ramping up the tension and adding plot twists galore that keep the reader guessing." Angela M., Line Editor, Red Adept Editing
When Cal Dexter rents one of the Blue Lake Cabins, he finds $3000 - under the floor! He doesn't know it, but it is the money from a bank robbery. A dead man's money.'Do I take it to the police?' he thinks. But three more people want the money, and two of them are dangerous.Can Cal stop them?
The Bodine Gang pushed its way onto the westbound stage and by the time the shooting was done, the two witnesses to the killings had gotten away with twelve thousand dollars. The gang wanted the money, and Lyle Bodine wanted the girl, especially the girl. Jim Wyatt, just out of prison for a crime he did not commit, was a tough man with a fast gun. He wasn't looking for trouble, but when he saw the girl he knew she'd never make it without his help. Jim dealt himself into this game, and now he had to get himself and the girl out of it. The only trouble was, Bodine and his men were not the only ones on his tail. March Newton wanted his land; he had already taken his woman. Between Bodine's gang and Newton's hired gunmen, Wyatt will have to ride a desperate trail to get out of this alive.
“An impressive debut.”–Publishers Weekly ***International Book Awards Finalist — Best New Fiction*** They said you can’t take your money with you when you die. What if they were wrong? Srinath Adiga’s timely satire explores the pitfalls of modern capitalism and the dangerous power of myth. Hong Kong, 2002. A stock market trader desperate to pay off a gangster debt invents a scam: Afterlife Dollars. A product inspired by an ancient Chinese custom that allows people to buy their way into heaven. It’s the beginning of a dizzying chain reaction that ripples in Mumbai, where one man does the unthinkable to secure his afterlife—while thousands of miles away in Amsterdam, another man races against time to stop an apocalypse. As a cast of larger-than-life characters grapple with unprecedented moral dilemmas, their choices will affect the rest of humanity. Profound, exhilarating and full of unexpected twists, Dead Money balances intelligence and dark humour with compassion, empathy and hope. Its cleverness lies in its ability to convince us that the impossible can happen—a compelling, thought-provoking read at a time when the world stares at an uncertain future. “A memorable premise lifts Adiga’s impressive debut. Adiga makes the central conceit work as he effectively sends up the tendency of people to believe anything.”–Publishers Weekly “Exhilarating pace, intriguing proposition, and plenty of dark laughs: Dead Money’s the thriller I’ll be burning through in the afterlife.”–Kate Veitch, author of Without a Backward Glance and Trust “A unique and highly original story. If you’ve ever wondered about the rise of BitCoin or how money really works, you’ll enjoy this book.”–Sion Scott-Wilson, author of The Sleepwalker’s Introduction to Flight
J.S. Fletcher's 'Dead Men's Money' is a captivating murder mystery classic that delves into the sinister underworld of crime and deception. Set in a quaint English village, the novel unravels a complex web of greed, betrayal, and murder, keeping the reader on the edge of their seat until the very last page. Fletcher's masterful storytelling and attention to detail make this novel a must-read for fans of classic detective fiction, reminiscent of the works of Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle. The atmospheric setting and well-drawn characters add depth to the narrative, creating a compelling and immersive reading experience. With twists and turns at every corner, 'Dead Men's Money' is sure to keep readers guessing until the shocking conclusion. J.S. Fletcher, a prolific author of mystery novels, showcases his talent for crafting intricate plots and engaging characters in 'Dead Men's Money.' With a keen understanding of human nature and a gift for storytelling, Fletcher weaves a tale that is both thrilling and thought-provoking. His background in journalism and keen interest in crime and mystery likely inspired him to pen this captivating novel, which remains a timeless classic in the genre. For fans of classic detective fiction and gripping murder mysteries, 'Dead Men's Money' is a must-read. J.S. Fletcher's compelling narrative and skillful storytelling make this novel a satisfying and engrossing read that will appeal to anyone who enjoys a good whodunit.
An old seafaring stranger with a heavy, locked op chest turns up from nowhere seeking lodgings with Hugh Moneylaws and his mother in Berwick-upon-Tweed, a rural English town bordering Scotland. One night he sends Hugh, a young solicitor's clerk, to meet a man instead of him, as he is too ill, but when Hugh arrives at the destination, he finds a man murdered. Hugh's law firm gets involved to resolve the mystery. Joseph Smith Fletcher (1863-1933) was an English author and journalist, one of the leading writers of detective fiction in the Golden Age. After his journalist career Fletcher first started writing poems, then historical fiction, and finally moved on to write detective mysteries.
There may be folk in the world to whom the finding of a dead man, lying grim and stark by the roadside, with the blood freshly run from it and making ugly patches of crimson on the grass and the gravel, would be an ordinary thing; but to me that had never seen blood let in violence, except in such matters as a bout of fisticuffs at school, it was the biggest thing that had ever happened, and I stood staring down at the white face as if I should never look at anything else as long as I lived. I remember all about that scene and that moment as freshly now as if the affair had happened last night. The dead man lying in the crushed grass--his arms thrown out helplessly on either side of himThere may be folk in the world to whom the finding of a dead man, lying grim and stark by the roadside, with the blood freshly run from it and making ugly patches of crimson on the grass and the gravel, would be an ordinary thing; but to me that had never seen blood let in violence, except in such matters as a bout of fisticuffs at school, it was the biggest thing that had ever happened, and I stood staring down at the white face as if I should never look at anything else as long as I lived. I remember all about that scene and that moment as freshly now as if the affair had happened last night. The dead man lying in the crushed grass--his arms thrown out helplessly on either side of himThere may be folk in the world to whom the finding of a dead man, lying grim and stark by the roadside, with the blood freshly run from it and making ugly patches of crimson on the grass and the gravel, would be an ordinary thing; but to me that had never seen blood let in violence, except in such matters as a bout of fisticuffs at school, it was the biggest thing that had ever happened, and I stood staring down at the white face as if I should never look at anything else as long as I lived. I remember all about that scene and that moment as freshly now as if the affair had happened last night. The dead man lying in the crushed grass--his arms thrown out helplessly on either side of himThere may be folk in the world to whom the finding of a dead man, lying grim and stark by the roadside, with the blood freshly run from it and making ugly patches of crimson on the grass and the gravel, would be an ordinary thing; but to me that had never seen blood let in violence, except in such matters as a bout of fisticuffs at school, it was the biggest thing that had ever happened, and I stood staring down at the white face as if I should never look at anything else as long as I lived. I remember all about that scene and that moment as freshly now as if the affair had happened last night. The dead man lying in the crushed grass--his arms thrown out helplessly on either side of himThere may be folk in the world to whom the finding of a dead man, lying grim and stark by the roadside, with the blood freshly run from it and making ugly patches of crimson on the grass and the gravel, would be an ordinary thing; but to me that had never seen blood let in violence, except in such matters as a bout of fisticuffs at school, it was the biggest thing that had ever happened, and I stood staring down at the white face as if I should never look at anything else as long as I lived. I remember all about that scene and that moment as freshly now as if the affair had happened last night. The dead man lying in the crushed grass--his arms thrown out helplessly on either side of himThere may be folk in the world to whom the finding of a dead man, lying grim and stark by the roadside, with the blood freshly run from it and making ugly patches of crimson on the grass and the gravel, would be an ordinary thing; but to me that had never seen blood let in violence, except in such matters as a bout of fisticuffs at school, it was the biggest thing that had ever happened, and I stood staring down at the white face as if I should never look at anything else as long as I lived.