Some tales don’t want to be told. They’re shrouded in the dark and cloaked in danger. Sensible people leave those mysteries well enough alone. But not Debbie Bradley. After all, that’s how she makes her living.
The Poison Dart
Debbie Bradley Crime Mysteries Book 2
by Geri Dreiling
Genre: Mystery, Thriller
An overdose. A drug bust. A captive of the cartel. When fates collide, who will survive?
The ripple effects of an overdose send shock
waves through a community.
A sweeping drug bust upends lives, exposing the cartel's deep reach into the
Midwest.
A quest for a better life threatens to destroy a family.
As Debbie Bradley digs deeper into each story, startling connections emerge.
When fates collide, who will survive?
What readers are saying:
“The narrative contains the right blend of
mystery, crime scenes and action. It is one of those books that keeps one glued
until the very end.“
“Dreiling relies more on intelligent conversations,
on the proper and strategic use of lies, and on wordplay“
“Grab or download a copy, curl up with a
blanket on the couch, and enjoy this good read and solid, accurate, crime story
with interesting twists and turns.“
“With a talent for plot creation, patiently
unwinding the threads of all angles, and never lacking for excitement, Dreiling
is an author you will want to read time and time again.“
EXCERPT
Chapter 1 – Reunion Excerpt
Just seeing the lighter made Caleb’s body tingle. He’d been dreaming of this moment for sixty days. Even when he was sitting in group, claiming he was done, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d say whatever he had to just to get out. There were times that, yes, when his parents came, he felt bad. His mom would cry. His dad would remain the aloof motherfucker he always was. But his mom. That was different. Sometimes he thought he should change for her. But his mom was just no match for heroin.
Caleb put the brown powder in the spoon from his kit. He opened the vial of distilled water. If you were going to get high, you might as well do it with style. Caleb gently moved the flame under the heroin. Slowly, evenly, he applied the heat’s gentle kisses to the drug, melting it with his slow caress.
Caleb pulled out a syringe. He put the needle in, pulled the plunger up, then flicked the side of the syringe to force the air bubbles up. Caleb removed the rubber tube tied around his upper arm and pushed the needle into his arm. Since he hadn’t shot up for two months, the purple vein in his arm had ample time to heal.
Liquid peace, Caleb thought as his body welcomed its old friend.
Caleb slumped back on the couch, briefly taking in Macie as she stood on his balcony. Her back was to them, but he could tell she was jittery by how she rubbed her hands against her thighs.
“Good ol’ Mace,” Caleb mumbled. His head, too heavy for his neck, lolled back onto the couch.
Alex picked up the spoon, ready to repeat the process with his stash. His attention focused on prepping his dose. It wasn’t until he’d shot up that he looked over at his motionless friend.
“Hey, Macie,” Alex called out, “Caleb’s noddin’.”
Macie turned around and walked back into the living room. Just in case.
She noticed Caleb’s lips turning blue. His head was back, gurgling noises coming from his throat.
Macie pushed Caleb’s shoulder. “Caleb,” she said firmly. “Cut it out. This isn’t funny.”
Caleb didn’t move.
Macie pushed harder. “Caleb!”
She opened his eyelids. His pupils were no bigger than the needle mark left in his arm.
“Shit!” Macie said. “Alex, I think Caleb OD’d.”
Alex, his voice slurring, said, “Well, that’s why we got the Narcan.”
Macie grabbed her purse and rummaged through it. She took out the package of nasal spray and tore it open. She took the cap off and shoved the nozzle up his nose until her fingers touched the bottom of Caleb’s right nostril.
“You gotta really push that plunger,” Alex mumbled.
Macie pushed hard. The foil seal broke with the pressure. The full dose emptied into his nose. Macie held her breath. It should just be a couple of moments, and Caleb would pop out of his coma.
Caleb didn’t move.
Macie shook Caleb’s shoulders. “Caleb!”
She grabbed the empty Narcan spray and put it up his left nostril, trying to get more out of the already-spent antidote.
“You got another one?” Alex mumbled. “Sometimes it takes more than one.”
“I’ve only got the one,” Macie said. “Call an ambulance!”
“Man, we can’t be here,” Alex slurred.
“I’m not leaving!” Macie said.
Chapter 2 – History Lessons
A retired police officer still called captain by everyone who knew him, Cap’n Jack looked more like an aging rock star than a cop. Wavy, shoulder-length silver hair, a grizzled beard, and a relaxed way of speaking marked him as a storyteller, not a police officer. He’d been a rookie during the St. Louis mob wars of the 1980s. His nephew, Detective Daniel Flannery, had suggested Debbie talk to the man who’d become something of an amateur crime historian and local raconteur in his retirement.
The recommendation had been hard won. Detective Flannery hadn’t been Debbie’s biggest fan when they first met. It had taken time, one brush with death, and what Debbie suspected was the detective’s crush on her clueless mother to turn him into an ally, albeit a reluctant one.
The twenty-eight-year-old host leaned toward the microphone. “Welcome to Crime Beat, a River City podcast. This week, we’re looking back at St. Louis and the mafia war in the nineteen eighties. My guest is retired St. Louis Metropolitan Police Department Captain Jack Flannery. Welcome, Cap’n Jack.”
“Mornin’, Debbie. Thanks for having me,” he replied.
“So let’s start with the mayhem that broke out after Anthony Giordano—Tony G.—died of cancer,” Debbie said.
“Sure,” Jack replied, his husky voice carrying the mark of the Camels he once, but no longer, smoked. “What you’ve gotta remember, back in the seventies and early eighties, St. Louis was controlled by three organized crime families. One was headed by the mafia, another by a Syrian-Lebanese syndicate with roots in St. Louis, and the third crime family was out of Illinois with ties to Chicago. All three groups were embedded into several of the unions here in town. To keep the peace, the three cooperated, but Tony G. was at the top of ’em all. In late August of nineteen eighty, everything falls apart after Tony G. up and dies. I mean, it wasn’t too long before all hell broke loose.”
“Why was that?” Debbie probed.
“You see, everyone thought that Horseshoe Jimmy…”
“You’re referring to James A. Michaels Senior, right?” Debbie interjected.
“Yep, by nineteen eighty, he was a dapper granddad, thick white hair and a cleft chin, who had spent his life as part of the Syrian-Lebanese syndicate. He’d gotten his start in organized crime as part of the Cuckoos, a south side gang from the times of Prohibition. By twenty-five, he was already in prison after holding up a railroad office in East Saint Louis. And there’s a great photo of him from nineteen fifty-nine just before he tried to slug a photographer.”
“I know the one you’re talking about,” Debbie said. “It appears in the story I wrote for this month’s issue about the mob war. That picture was taken at police headquarters after he was nabbed in a liquor raid.”
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Crime Beat Girl
Debbie Bradley Crime Mysteries Book 1
A girl is dead. A boy is locked up. Can
Debbie Bradley discover the truth before more lives are lost…maybe even her
own?
A series of deadly shootings. An outbreak of stolen cars. When journalist
Debbie Bradley returns home to St. Louis, the summer crime wave has started.
And she’s in the center: A witness, a reporter, a target.
Debbie’s reasons for leaving behind her promising career in Washington D.C.
were complicated. Her mother, a prominent lawyer, was diagnosed with cancer.
Her engagement was cooling. When she got offered a job in St. Louis that she
hadn’t been looking for, Debbie recognized an opportunity. Or an escape.
But she didn’t expect to come home and see a girl die. Debbie never planned to
investigate a boy behind bars. And she didn’t anticipate colliding with hostile
cops and wary politicians.
As her work gains attention, Debbie gathers enemies. Will her assignment to
cover the St. Louis crime beat be her last?
EXCERPT
Debbie noticed that her phone had gone
quiet. Either she was going in the right direction or her app had crashed.
Again. She took one hand off the steering wheel and adjusted her glasses as she
peered at the small screen. She put the phone back down and tucked a strand of
her thick, wavy hair the color of a roasted chestnut shell back into her tight
ponytail. Maybe it's time to turn back,
she thought. But a retreat wouldn't get her to the Teen Alliance interview.
She needed to focus on the assignment. It
was easy enough--interviewing the executive director of a nonprofit. Teen
Alliance was an organization trying to give kids from families with little
means healthy ways to spend their free time. It would be a puff piece, and
although light, fluffy, positive stories weren't really her strength, Sam
thought it would be a way for Debbie to get into the groove of magazine
reporting, as well as help her grow her contact list of local movers and
shakers.
The repeated blare of a car horn shook
Debbie out of her reverie.
She turned her head toward the sound that
pierced the eerie quiet. It was coming from a blue, rust-pocked pickup truck
driven by a silver-haired man. The truck was headed toward her, traveling in
its lane, and yet the driver was pointing at Debbie and then pointing at his
rearview mirror.
Instinctively, Debbie looked into her own
rearview. That's when she spotted a red Audi convertible weaving wildly in and
out of her lane--and the truck's lane--and was not slowing down.
Debbie lurched her steering wheel abruptly
to the right. The oncoming truck veered in the opposite direction, leaving as
much room as possible for the erratic luxury car barreling down the roadway and
any driver unfortunate enough to be sharing the space.
The out-of-control Audi swerved toward the
truck, then sharply careened the opposite way, its front aimed at Debbie's car.
Debbie's heart lurched into her throat. The Audi's tires squealed. The nose of
the Audi turned sharply once again and clipped the back end of the truck before
jumping the curb.
Screams rang out. A crowd of teens who had
been gathered outside a tiny market--the sort that sells junk food, liquor, and
lottery tickets in places where chain grocery stores refuse to operate--was in
the path of the Audi that was no longer being guided by its driver.
Those on the edges of the group scattered
like birds after the loud boom of a gunshot, darting out of the car's path.
Those who were in the center, the unlucky ones, flew into the air when the car
connected with human flesh.
Debbie slammed on her brakes, threw her car
into park, and grabbed her phone to dial 911.
The Audi finally came to a stop after the
front end and hood smashed through the display window of the market. Customers
still clutching red plastic baskets and a worker wearing a green apron stumbled
out the front door, dazed and confused.
Debbie jumped out of her car. There were
people broken and bleeding on the ground. Some wailed. One teen who had been
tossed in the air and then left crumpled in a heap on the earth looked at
Debbie with a vacant gaze, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
As Debbie ran toward the Audi, rage filled
her chest.
She flung open the car's door with all the
strength that anger fuels. The driver, slumped over a deployed airbag, moaned.
His feet barely reached the pedals, and his tear-streaked cheeks were round
with the baby fat he hadn't lost.
He was just a child.
What readers are saying:
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About the Author
Geri L. Dreiling is the author of Crime Beat Girl, the debut novel in the Debbie Bradley Mystery series, which received seven book awards. She is also the author of Erasing the Past. Dreiling is an award-winning journalist as well as professor and lawyer. She lives in St. Louis.
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Website: https://geridreiling.com
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This should be a fantastic novel. Thanks for hosting this giveaway.
ReplyDeleteI like the title and cover. Looks great.
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