After private investigator Art Blakey is hired to find the missing sister of Inge Schwartz, the femme fatale, dead bodies start to accumulate at an alarming pace.
When Art discovers a link with a fictional Catalan city and the alleged kidnapper, he gets tangled in a web of lies, deceit and passion. Art will have to navigate a complex maze of ex-lovers, mafia gangsters, reporters and art dealers to find Gisela.
At the end of the day, can Art rise to the occasion and find the damsel in distress... or is it already too late?
New release, well-known author.
I was woken up by the sound of my mobile ringing. My head hurt and felt like it was about the size of a watermelon. I supposed that I might have had one or two too many the night before, as I sat up and grabbed the phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Is that Arthur Blakey, the private investigator?’ a feminine voice asked.
‘It is indeed.’
‘Oh Mr. Blakey, I’ve heard that you are an expert when it comes to finding people, is that right?’ Whoever she was, she spoke English with a foreign accent. Germanic, I should have said.
‘Only when I manage to do it.’
‘This is no laughing matter, Mr. Blakey.’ She didn’t seem to go for my line in humour. A lot of people don’t, not that it’s ever bothered me much.
‘Never said it was.’
She went quiet for a moment and as I waited to hear what she was going to say next I could picture her in my mind’s eye, or thought I could. I reckoned she was a pretty brunette. They often are, when I picture them. Not brunette necessarily, I don’t mean, but pretty. I don’t know why, but they just seem to come out that way. I suppose you could say I’m an optimist by nature. Maybe you have to be if you’re going to last very long in my line of work. You get to see a lot of nasty stuff working as a private investigator, and you can’t let it get to you. They should put having the ability to forget and bounce back from things in the job description.