A young man lay sprawled on the carpet, the phone clenched in his fist...his call for help strangled by a lethal dose of POISON. The gorgeous blonde had lips that begged to be kissed and a body that no one could refues. But to the men who had loved her till death did them part, she was pure POISON. The homicide cop had broken a cardinal rule: never get involved...or in bed...with a suspect. Now his obsession could land him in the morgue--unless he discoverd whether the heart-stopping beauty was a lady--or a femme fatale with a passion for POISON.
A sample of the writer's style from Chapter 1:
The two Homocide detectives peered cautiously at the dead body on the carpet, and then circled around Hal Willis, who was also looking down at the corpse, hands on his hips. It was pretty easy to maneuver around Willis, as small as he was. Monoghan and Monroe, built like mastodons themselves, were both thinking they would not like to be partnered with any detective as small as Willis, a thin, wiry squirt who barely would have passed the five-foot-eight height requirement back in the old days, although nowadays you could be the size of a fire hydrant and you couldn't be discriminated against because of fair-hiring practices.
very enjoyable; read it twice.