What happens when the private eye has lost his way?
That’s when a local gang boss recruits him to help solve the murder of his jazz musician son.
But that raises the big question: What happened to Pete’s mom?"
Credit: Robert Kidd; Polis Books
“It’s a dark, haunting mystery that I hope people will check out and enjoy.”
For now, here’s an excerpt fromMiami Midnight, which Polis Books will debut on July 16.
The words seemed to float in the air between the homicide detective and the entrance to the room.
Polis Books
The deputy that uttered them backed away.
Osvaldo Valdes knew he had little choice in the matter.
Osvaldo did his best to keep his footfalls light.
He’d been on the Miami Homicide team for a little over six months.
His partner, Tino Vigil, was catching another body downtown.
He’d prattled on about the noise, too, the screaming.
More than your usual Overtown kerfuffle complaints.
More than your usual New Year’s Eve partying complaints, too.
Real loud, then dead quiet.
“Don’t touch anything yet, okay?”
“I wanna get a feel for it first.”
Past the marks and cuts and injuries, Osvaldo recognized something.
A flicker of familiarity snapped at him.
“F-ck,” he said, his eyes scanning the woman’s face once more.
Not just a woman.
Not just a Jane Doe.
But he knew it was true.
Mosher stood behind him, a few inches too close, shadowing his movement.
He jerked back, surprised by Osvaldo’s quick pivot.
The ones that survive.
“And then get Pedro Fernandez on the phone.
The trip had been pleasant enough.
He’d even had an empty seat between himself and the lady at the window.
That was best, Novo thought.
He didn’t do well with small talk.
He pulled the small, black burner phone out of his coat pocket and dialed the number from memory.
He already felt the tropical heat coating him, like a brush soaked in oil.
“Aqui estoy,” Novo said.
The voice on the other line was flat and muted.
Their exchange was brief.
Less than a minute.
Numbers and a few words.
He’d memorized the address.
The sign would read “Batista.”
He’d get in the forgettable black sedan and nod at the driver.
It wasn’t Novo’s favorite tool.
But it was easy to transport and got things done up close.
And Novo only worked up close these days.
He was a legitimate businessman.
And this assignment was just too good to ignore.
It was one he’d savor.
So, he’d build his gun.
Then he’d make his way toward his target.
He’d find the perfect time to sidle up next to the man.
Then he’d kill Pete Fernandez.
