One Deadly Sister a Women Sleuths Mystery Romance (Sandy Reid Mystery Series #1)

By Rod Hoisington

~ Escape into the awesome adventure that launched the popular Sandy Reid Women Sleuths Mysteries Series. ~ When an almost-too-clever young law student in Philadelphia gets a life-or-death call from her estranged brother, who just moved to a small beach town in Florida, she tells him to go to hell. She holds an old grudge and resents having her law studies and dream job seriously disrupted. The brother doesn't have a clue about women and got seduced and framed for murder. He's a stranger in a hostile town and his sister is his only hope. Should she try to rescue her damn brother in Florida and risk having her own career in Philly fall apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rod Hoisington
• Release date: Oct 27, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452426150

Rod Hoisington

Rod Hoisington lives in Florida where he devotes full-time to his compulsion to dig into the souls and lives of fictional characters. ONE DEADLY SISTER is the first novel in the popular Sandy Reid mystery series, followed by THE PRICE OF CANDY,SUCH WICKED FRIENDS, CHASING SUSPECT THREE, ALIVE AFTER FRIDAY and INTO THE HEAT.

Book preview

When Ray Reid called his sister in Philadelphia and told her he was stranded—locked up in jail down in Florida, she told him to go to hell.

She tossed her phone aside, turned the ponderous lawbook face down to hold her place, and sat there at her study desk, slowly shaking her head. The inconsiderate jerk, she thought. He can’t actually be doing this. Geez, why didn’t he make his one phone call to a friend or a lawyer? Shouldn’t have cut him off, though. Might all be a mistake—she couldn’t imagine her boring brother doing anything as exciting as getting arrested. He had once yelled at her for jaywalking.

She needed a break anyway and moved over to the futon sofa and clicked on the evening news. Some talk about an assassination of some politician down in Florida. Not paying attention, she started to change channels—then heard her brother’s name. After that, they switched to Weather. A shiver spiraled down her spine.

Her brother—an assassin? Definitely a mistake. She picked up her phone, stared at it, then put it down—she didn’t need this. Her brother had ignored her distress call years ago, and they had lived on different planets ever since. Florida had plenty of defense attorneys—let them straighten it out. She didn’t need to get involved. She glared at her phone. It rang, startling her. I told you to go to hell.

Hey, didn’t tell me nothing. What’s happening?

Jayla, that you?

Yeah, Sandy, working late. Wanted to give you a heads up. Just had some weird phone calls here at the office from some media types asking about you. Like somebody is sure as hell shook up about something, and they all know your name. Had calls from a Fox 29 reporter and some producer dude from Action News. Like that, you know what I’m saying?

I don’t get it.

"Well, get this... some girl from CNN in Atlanta calls our office and starts begging for your address and number—told her no way, sweetheart. She finally gives up and says for me to please hold for Gretchen Henson. Yeah, right. Like the Gretchen Henson herself from CNN gonna speak to Jayla. For some damn reason, I sat there holding for five minutes. Next thing I know, her highness is sweet-talking me saying the public has a right to know all your personal junk. That’s when she got all bent—guess nobody says no to Gretchen Henson. Hey, could have sold your address for five hundred bucks right then—got nothing but a hangup from this girl. What's going down? You go kill someone when I wasn’t looking?"

Oh, God! Maybe my brother did.

Who’d he shoot, that Pope guy?

He just called. Got himself thrown in jail down in Florida. Sandy stood and slowly shook her head, grasping the situation. Must have given out my name. What do I do now?

I thought you told me your brother was dead.

As far as I was concerned, he was. Now he’s in trouble and wants to resurrect himself. Wants me to go down there and rescue him. Mentioned some serious problem with a woman.

Hey Sandy, you want to help some guy with a serious woman problem, you can start with my boyfriend. You going down there?

I told him to go to hell. If I go down there it’ll be to wring his neck.

You don’t mean that, girl. Come on you’re talking about your brother. I had a make-believe big brother when I was little—always around to protect me. Know what I’m saying? Wish I had a real brother.

So do I, That’s what I’m getting at. A childhood recollection of worshiping her older brother, who was able to do so many cool things, brought a momentary smile to her lips. Anyway, I’m not going down there and screw up my great job here in Philly? Not likely.

Looks like your job’s getting screwed up without any help from you, sister. Good luck with the media. You’d better figure on extra mirror-time in the morning. The way they lit into me on the phone, they’ll be shouting at your door with cameras at dawn. Hey, you want me to come over there? I’ll step out on your porch in the morning, tell them I’m Sandra Reid and give everyone hell for disturbing my sleep—that should keep all of them confused for a couple of days.

I know that’s exactly what you would do. And I can picture you leaning forward with your hands on your hips, giving them a dose of attitude. She chuckled nervously. No, I’m okay, Jayla.

Like hell you are. They were still phoning when I left. Leaving messages. By morning I’ll bet a hundred calls went down on the office answering machine. Each one shouting out your name.

Damn. We work for the top criminal defense law firm in Philly—they won’t put up with such nonsense for a second. Sandy drew in a deep breath. Oh God, my brother on the national news, and I’ll be on the local news tomorrow. Next, I’ll be fired.

But you haven’t seen him for years. He’s not even in your life.

Local newspapers and TV don’t care. They’re going for any kind of local Philly connection to national news. That’s the way it works. She couldn’t help the quiver in her voice. I’ll be out on the street, and no firm wants an infamous person like me for any kind of legal work.

But the firm likes you. I hear the office talk about you. You’re something special.

Yeah, that was today, when I was an unknown field investigator. We’re talking about tomorrow when CNN is showing film of me trying to hide my face. Yeah, I’ll be something special, all right.

Hey, maybe you’ll be okay. It’s not you, it’s your brother a thousand miles away, and you’re on bad terms with him to start with. Come on, he’s an adult, no way you’re responsible for him. The firm won’t hold his actions against you.

Sure, they’re nice people. They’ll agree with everything you just said. And then they’ll turn to me and say how sorry they are.

You are one sharp girl. You’ll figure something out.

Nothing I can do to stop it.

You know what, Sandy? I’ll go in early tomorrow and erase all those damn calls. Okay?

No, no, don’t even think about it. That would be an unforgivable action and would get you fired. Thanks anyway. Sandy’s eyes narrowed, and she ran a hand through her short brown hair. No, I’ll go in early and explain what happened. At least, the firm will then have time to prepare for the bad publicity. I’ll offer to quit, and they’ll accept, so they can say I was just some kind of provisional employee who no longer works there.

And I’ll be standing there beside you.

No, Jayla, absolutely not. Stay away from me. I’m poison. But this is your chance to stand out. Go in at your regular time. Go straight to your supervisor, and calmly explain all the calls you handled. You protected the company and did everything professionally. You’ll be known as the one in the office they can count on. The one who knows how to handle an emergency. Those media types are good at getting private info out of people. Someone else might have really screwed things up. But you were cool. You stood tall. You’re a champ. You refused to give out any employee information and reported the calls the next morning. They should give you a raise. This will be a public relations nightmare for the firm, and it’s caused by me. You’ve nothing to do with it. Got it?

Got it. I’ll stay away from you, but for only one day. What’d your boyfriend say about the weird call from your brother?

Kyle’s in the bedroom. And I told you, not a boyfriend… we’re just good friends. The door’s closed right now. He can’t hear. This is my study time, so he’s working with his laptop or reading in bed.

Sandy, don’t give me that just-good-friends junk. I’ve seen your one-bedroom apartment. You saying your so-called friend sleeps on the couch?

Now that wouldn’t be very friendly, would it? We both are getting what we want at this point in our lives without any romantic complications. I don’t have time for any other kind of relationship with my job, my classes and studying. I really like him. I wouldn’t share my bed and apartment if I didn’t like him.

Sounds awesome, Sugar. But it won’t last.

Of course not. Eventually, one of us will get serious about someone, then that’s it…but it’s going on six months now. Anyway, my brother's problems don’t concern him. He’d be cool about it anyway. Doesn’t know my brother—barely knows me. When I tell him about all this, he’ll take my side and console me as he always does. Kyle will make some woman a good husband someday… but it won’t be me. She shrugged and took a glance at the time. Hey, Jayla, sorry you have to go through this. Thanks for having my back.

Hey, you’re family. Got my fingers crossed for you. Let me know if I can help."

They said Goodnight. Sandy flipped channels, looking for more information on the assassination. Damn brother had brought all this down on her. And just when she had her life all together and going her way. She had her own problems. Should go down to Florida just to watch him suffer. And she had to face whatever tomorrow.

Commit murder… her nerdy big brother? No way—he’d feel guilty if he jaywalked. But the damage was already been done the instant he was arrested. She knew how the law worked. A typical prosecutor was some elected politician with his own agenda. And small-town police weren’t savvy enough to grab the most obvious suspect and stop looking. Even if the authorities were diligent and her brother’s arrest turned out to be a mistake, he faced a terrible situation. A single night in jail is horrible enough to change most people’s lives forever. Even if innocent, her brother was in for a terrible, lengthy ordeal until the legal process was eventually resolved. The least she could do was give him some sympathy—some comfort.

She found her phone and clicked his call-back number. He answered on the first ring. She snapped, You managed to get yourself on the national news, and now the media are after me. And I’m being fired in the morning. Thank you very much.

Sandy! You called back. Great to hear your voice.

You’re guessing it’s me. You forgot what my voice sounds like. You really in jail? Did you just happen to give out any personal info about me down there?

No, well... maybe? The detective asked if I had any family. I just said a sister in Philadelphia.

Damn it, so you volunteered my name!

Didn’t see any harm. Trying to show I was a straight guy with nothing to hide. What do you mean, being fired in the morning?

Somehow, they discovered my employer and started phoning. Raymond. I work for an up-scale law firm with a spotless reputation. I’ll lose my job when the media storms the office tomorrow. She understood it wasn’t his fault if some jerk cop down there leaked her name to the media. She cooled off slightly. How come they let you keep your phone in jail, anyway? Doesn’t sound right.

Police took mine for evidence to see who I’ve called and who’s called me. They gave me this disposable loaner.

It’s tapped, Raymond. It’s the old loaner-phone trick. Criminal law is my thing—I know about this stuff. Watch what you say.

They think I’m calling my mob mouthpiece in Philly right now. Anyway, I’m innocent.

"Innocence is beside the point. Suspicion is your problem. She tried to sound unconcerned. Isn’t this where you’re supposed to ask how I’ve been the last few years?"

Oh yeah, how are you, Sandy?

You see, I get this call tonight from some guy who says he’s my brother. I heard my brother moved to Florida, but it can’t be him since he never returns my calls. As much as I’d enjoy his being in trouble, there’s no way he’d be so ballsy as to call me. You’ve got the wrong number, buddy.

Sorry. I’m not very good at keeping in touch.

You going to pretend you actually do call me now and then?

Didn’t I call at Christmas?

Yeah, two years ago, you wanted someone’s address.

Don’t know why they arrested me, Sandy. I had absolutely nothing to do with it. Well, maybe a tiny bit to do with it. Can I tell you about her?

Just tell me why you’re in jail and make it short.

I’m telling you… I met up with her at a party. Sure, she was pretty, but I didn’t intend to get involved with her, so it made no difference to me how old she was—never crossed my mind. She was attractive, really sexy and started coming on to me—I couldn’t resist and got carried away. We went back to my place.

Congratulations, score one for Raymond.

I didn’t even think about her age that night, but she called me a week later. That’s when all the trouble started.

Wait… what are you saying? You didn’t think about her age… oh my God! Took only a second for the horrible thought to sink in. How stupid can you get, Raymond? You must be absolutely certain of a young girl’s age. If she tells you she’s eighteen and looks fifteen, she’s probably twelve. I’m not even listening to this. She held the phone away long enough to roll her eyes. Murder is bad enough—no way I’m helping you beat a statutory rape charge. And don’t call again. I don’t know you.

She heard him protesting, but she kept on talking, "Next, I’ll get a call from some Florida prosecuting attorney asking my age and telling me to put my parents on the phone. Goodbye, my very stupid brother. You dug your own grave on this one."

"No, no, don’t hang up, Sandy. I’m not in that sort of trouble. It’s the opposite. She looked forty but, in fact, was over sixty."

Then why are you scaring me with all that talk about age? She let out a heavy sigh. Anyway, I can start breathing again. So, you got it on with a cougar who hits on thirty-year-old men at parties. Good for you. And good for her too, now that I think about it—sounds sort of cool. So, you being arrested had nothing to do with an underage girl?

Of course not. I’ve been charged with first-degree murder!

Well, that’s good. First-degree murder is much better than statutory rape, believe me. She leaned back. Maybe his situation wasn’t so bad. So, you got a job in Florida as a hitman?

No, I landed a good job down here with a stockbroker firm doing the back-office paperwork as I did in Philadelphia. The dead guy was a state senator running for Governor of Florida. It all started with that woman. I need to explain about her.

Why don’t you explain it to one of your actual friends who gives a damn.

I’ve barely moved in down here and don’t know anyone. The authorities are ready to hang me in the town square.

A lot of folks would look forward to spending the last few days of their life in Florida. Where are you anyway?

Park Beach, a small oceanside town on the southeast coast of Florida. The dead guy was like a favorite son. And I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The town wants my blood. Right now, I’m standing in a stinking cell in the dark. I can hear some big commotion outside that’s been going on for a while. The guard told me it was from a mob and all the TV people. The Chief of Police is making a statement, and the cops inside are gawking out the windows for the cameras. They’re heroes for getting a dangerous character such as me off the street so quickly. The state attorney doesn’t bother to say alleged. He simply refers to me as the perpetrator. They’ll no doubt skip the formality of a trial. I need someone to find out what’s going on, someone to rescue me.

That’s what attorneys are for.

In this little town, my attorney will turn out to be the brother of the judge. The jury will be his cousins and will enjoy hanging me.

I promise they won’t hang you, Raymond.

Oh, that’s good to hear. Does that mean you’ll help me?

No, it means they use lethal injection in Florida. Now, if I lose my job because of your screwup, I’ll come down and strangle you myself. They’re no doubt outside my apartment right now setting up a satellite TV truck. I can’t wait for my boss to see me on the morning news.

You ever get your law degree?

See what I mean. You’ve no idea of my situation. Your little sister could be kidnapped in Baghdad for all you know. I still work for Walde, Cluster & Kensworth, the criminal defense law firm. Ran out of money for my law degree. Paying off student loans. Work outside the office. I’m a field investigator of criminal cases including murder. I do the legwork. Run around finding witnesses who didn’t want to be found and small talk them into giving statements they hadn’t intended to give. I find out stuff the prosecution doesn’t want found out. Love it.

That’s precisely what I need.

And assuming I’m not fired, the firm will reimburse me for tuition, so I can stay in law school. When I pass the Pennsylvania bar, a lawyer position is waiting for me. Is that dreamy or what?

Yes, it is. Now, that first night with the woman from the party was no problem. Then she wanted to meet me again at a motel…

Excuse me, you were asking about me. You didn’t hear a word I said.

I heard you. Sounds great. He took a quick breath. So, that second time we were at the motel, but it’s not what you think. I mean, the second time we got together was the first time at the motel. Then I talked to the murdered guy. The police didn’t understand at all.

Imagine that.

I’ve got a big problem Sandy.

If you’ve no friends to call when you’re in trouble, you have an even bigger problem. Everyone needs someone they can call at 4 a.m.

You’re right. This conversation isn’t going too well, is it?

Raymond, where were you when I was in trouble?

You talking about juvie hall? Good grief, that was ten years ago, more. Can’t you get beyond that?

You’re right, I should get over it, but I haven’t. I’ll work on it. You sit there in jail, and I’ll work on it.

Silence.

Sandy, you still there?

You convicted yet?

I was afraid you’d hung up.

The longest conversation with my big brother in my entire life, and I should hang up? Her voice had softened somewhat. Do I wear glasses?

What?

Do I wear glasses, yes or no?

Glasses? Yes… ah no, I don’t think so.

I rest my case. You’d walk right past me on the street. Somehow, I believe there are things you should just know about your sister. My story should be your story—get it? That’s a stretch for you, isn’t it?

Sorry, Sandy, but there are years between us. It’s not as though we were joined at the hip.

"But I thought we were at least friends. Don’t you get it? We were born friends. We should be closer. Her stomach tightened, and she had to hold the phone away for a few seconds to get her breath. You simply don’t want to connect with me."

When I get this behind me, I’ll make it up to you. Can you forgive me?

Forgive you? How about I just forget you? That was kind of nasty, she didn’t really mean it. And he didn’t deserve it. Why had she said such a hateful thing?

Silence for a full minute. Okay, I get it, Sandy. I’m sorry. I should never have phoned you.

I realize you’re in a deep hole down there, and I don’t mean to minimize it. The irony of him now being the one in trouble didn’t escape her, and she knew she was being too harsh. She could have tried harder to reach out to him over the years. Nevertheless, it was unfair of him to ask. Her ambition was to be a lawyer, and it had taken four years of sacrifice and hard work to get where she was. I can’t leave, Raymond. I’m going to try and keep this job. I’m not about to screw it up.

You’re right, don’t screw up your job. Somehow I thought… I realize I’ve been a lousy brother and don’t deserve your help, but… there’s no one else.

You’ll be okay. Just stop talking and get yourself a lawyer. The court will appoint one if you can’t afford it.

Sandy, I’m not destitute, I can afford a lawyer. Hey, how do you know so much about this stuff?

You haven’t been listening. I work for criminal defense lawyers. I run around all day finding out whatever it takes to get our client out of trouble. She started to say she should speak to any lawyer he was considering hiring to see if the guy actually knew was he was doing. But no, she shouldn’t get involved. Then trying to sound upbeat, she quickly added, Hey Raymond, hope things turn out all right for you down there.

Thanks for calling, Sis. Thanks for… letting me hear your voice.

Bye now, I’m gone. She was still shaken by the situation. Yet, fighting a murder charge could take years and her going down to Florida was simply out of the question. She couldn’t be his attorney anyway. She couldn’t spare the time, and he shouldn’t ask it of her. She had her own problems—enough about him.

Her life had been a bit hectic. But lately, it was nicely on track—things were going her way. Even Kyle had come along to share her bed and apartment. Suddenly her plan was at risk. Everything was up in the air. Would she lose it all? Her job would be gone. So paying for law school was out, and now her life plan was all upset. She looked over at her study desk with the old goose-neck lamp, laptop, study guides and yellow legal pad. And stared at the ponderous law book now turned upside down.

Ray Reid sat on the bunk in his jail cell down in Florida and tossed the silent phone from hand to hand. He should smash the damn thing against the iron bars. Why did he phone Sandy? What was wrong with him, he wondered. How dare he ask his sister for such help? She can’t afford to get involved in this. Couldn’t blame her. Of course, she should stay out of it. And somehow he has gotten her tangled up in his problem?

Was there someone else he could call, someone he hadn’t screwed up with his seeming indifference? Certainly, no one down here, possibly no one up in Philadelphia either. Sounded pathetic when he thought about it. No one will miss him. No one but Sandy even knows who he is.

He didn’t think of himself as friendless. Wasn’t he friendly and well-liked by his co-workers? Sure, he enjoyed his solitude and didn’t spend much time thinking about friends. Friends just appeared in his life from time to time. They happened. He didn’t seek them out. He hadn’t sought out that woman at the party either. She came on to him, and he had thought he was lucky.

He glanced over at the other bunk in the cell. The cell lights had been turned off for the night. Still, with the remaining dim light from the jail corridor, he could make out the bulk of a smelly old man in rumpled clothes lying dead drunk on his back, snoring with his head hard against the wall. Looks as though we both could use a friend. I don’t know anyone else in your damn town, mister, Ray said aloud, surprising himself. The man didn’t stir.

The jail cell felt rotten, airless and hot. Yet Ray started shivering. It made no sense, but he was having difficulty breathing, as though he were drowning. He gasped for air but only the polluted smell of the jail was there to fill his lungs. He was alone, and he was drowning. He stared at the useless phone in his shaking hand. The phone was like a lifeline thrown to him from some boat except no one was holding the other end.

Chapter Two

Three weeks earlier, Ray Reid had moved down to Florida from Philadelphia to start a new job in Park Beach, a small beach town on Florida’s southeast coast. Moved to get away from the scene of his divorce, start fresh. His ex-wife had once told him she was attracted to him because he had a great job and owned a charming house. When they split, she accused him of being one of those introverts who would never make a success of anything. Of course, she took the charming house.

Nothing much to move. She took it all, even kept his dog. He managed to rescue some of his history books and string quartet CDs from the curbside trash in front of the house he had bought and paid for before they were even married.

His new employer, a Florida securities broker, E.J. Bradford & Co., needed a back-office manager. That was Ray’s specialty: running all the numbers and seeing that the firm handled the stock buys and sells properly.

The job had started well, and his associates liked him. Nothing very threatening about Ray, an everyday forty-year-old, never quite made it to six feet, short brown hair already thin at the temples. His face was okay—at least that’s how a girl in college once described it. Another girl told him his horn-rimmed glasses were unquestionably a date-loser. But he’d always worn that kind. They fit fine and weren’t expensive.

Each day after the market closed, an attractive young stockbroker at his new firm, Meg Emerson, would stride to the back office, still charged with energy, and chat with him to calm down after her hectic day. Meg was a sales whiz, the number one sales producer in the office. All the sales reports crossed Ray’s desk in the back office, so he knew she grossed twice as much as her boss. She could afford to dress fabulously, yet he observed she favored a conservative look and wore her blond hair short and straight. She pushed the upper limit on the ideal height-weight charts, although she didn’t seem concerned.

He thought Meg had a remarkable mind. She wasn’t afraid to discuss serious subjects such as art and antiques. Ray was almost ten years older, and although there were several younger, better-looking guys around the office, for some reason, Ray was the person she wanted to talk with. She never missed a day saying something to him.

Meg had invited him to the party that started it all. She merely gave the party... he couldn’t blame her for his meeting Loraine there.

When party day arrived, Ray was still settling into his new apartment. He needed to paint the place and shop for a lamp, a screwdriver and a can opener. He had little interest in attending a gathering of strangers and doing his wallflower routine while planning a polite escape. Not his idea of fun. Nevertheless, he did go. Meg had been so insistent.

Meg gave him a warm greeting at her door, including an unexpected kiss on the cheek. A brief look around the room convinced him he had made a dreadful mistake. He had the awful feeling that he should be around at the back door making a delivery. This wasn’t his crowd at all. The room glittered with classy people laughing and clinking glasses. She had suggested jacket, no tie. Even so, her guests seemed especially stylish to him. Meg wore a black linen cocktail dress with a breathless plunging V-neck.

Ray came dressed in the same jacket he wore to work every day and a lightweight turtleneck. He felt about as stylish as a dishtowel. If somehow he could ever get out of there, he’d never leave his apartment again.

Her beachfront, high-rise condominium on the barrier island was impressive. The building sat on the narrow but costly strip of land between the Atlantic and the Intracoastal Waterway. Consequently, she had an expensive view from three sides of her condo.

Realtors call my apartment a front-to-front, Meg explained. Instead of the usual wall on the rear side away from the ocean, there’s a second balcony overlooking the waterway to the west.

The layout amazed him. Some of her guests were on the beachside balcony, almost the size of his entire apartment, looking down at the beach and out to the Atlantic. A more normal-sized balcony was at the opposite end of the expansive living room. From there, guests had a view of the waterway, a cove dotted with undulating boats on moorings and on across to the lights of the city on the western horizon.

She had decorated her home in subtle shades of high-level income. Although Ray was aware she had some money, he never suspected the engaging young woman who stopped at his desk every day enjoyed that manner of lifestyle.

Meg wanted everyone to meet him. After graciously zigging and zagging the crowd for his wine, she introduced him around to get him started. He saw no other coworkers present, not even her boss—definitely

Reviews for One Deadly Sister a Women Sleuths Mystery Romance (Sandy Reid Mystery Series #1)

[scott_hercher · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Frankly, not that good. It was entertaining, for the most part, until the end when the wheels sort of came off. And certain parts, such as the 70-something beauty in a thong, just defied belief. This was the first book in the Sandy Reid series, and I'm not inspired to read the second.

[grandpahobo_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Pretty good story. The characters were interesting, if a bit superficial.

[fiberfool · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

My reading of this one was drug out as I only read it when on the treadmill and the arrival of spring as me doing more cardio on my bike than on the treadmill. Add to it training for a 5k and being unable to read while running on the treadmill and progress slowed dramatically. Often when it takes me a long time to finish a book it is because it isn't that engrossing. Not so in this case.I really did no have a clue who the real killer was in this one. Oh, at one point I was convinced it was the person who was at fault, but I had decided on several other people too at different points. There were many twists and convolutions to this plot, perhaps just a titch too many to feel natural. But the characters were interesting and the action intense at times so I didn't mind too much. I definitely think I'll give the second book in the series a try at some point.

[rhonda1111 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

its a nice murder mystery kept me guessing till the end. I thought the character Sandy would have a bigger part as it called sandy reid mystery. Did not like proscuter and a few other characters in the book.I would be willing to read more books in the series. See what happens next to Sandy.

[readerbynight · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A very creative and enjoyable first novel, Rod Hoisington has created a complicated whodunit with red herrings to spare. At the basic root we have the remaining two members of a family, a brother and sister, who have had no real contact since the day their parents died several years ago. In fact, sister Sandy is living her well-ordered life quite satisfactorily, thank you, doing legwork for a highly respected law office. A late night call brings her brother Raymond back into her life like a slap in the face, she has all but disowned him and the call is like a blast of ice. He is calling from a Florida jail in a small town, with a murder rap hanging over his head. Sandy is determined that in no way is she going to help him, she is still too angry about his lack of support for her when she needed it.A quick look at the News, and she starts to get second thoughts. Too many questions, Ray is not the type to murder anyone, much less a high-profile Senator. Confusion reigns as she arrives to find her brother being railroaded through the system so that State Attorney Moran can win a famous trial whether his "held in custody" suspect is guilty or not. Moran is ignoring the many other possible suspects and zeroing in on his target, creating a case for conviction. A stranger in town? What a break for him, everyone will hate this guy Ray for assassinating their Senator! From this point on, there are misunderstandings, misdirections, underestimations, especially underestimating Sandy, a pit-bull in a sexy body. Ludicrous statements and outright lies are flying everywhere. Not only are there lots of twists in the case itself, but in the many strange relationships that show up here and there throughout. This book is written almost tongue-in-cheek and I loved it. It grabs hold of you early on and you can't get away from it. The action suddenly takes off with a few diverse leads and builds very quickly toward the final setups, lies and implausibilities that give the reader a sense of fun and satisfaction as the story finally wraps up all the loose ends, finding more to deal with than meets the eye. I will definitely be looking for another novel by Rod Hoisington!

[handleson · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I love my heroines tough and able to crack a man’s jaw with their pinky, so I should have loved Hoisington’s Sandy. He describes her as “almost-too-clever.” Heh. She’s an idiot. She’s tough but she’s an idiot. I could accept stupid in heels but the legal premise in this book is also idiotic. Sandy does a fair amount of fighting but none of it is interesting. A bad book I cannot recommend.