Back In The Game: Smith Investigation Series 1

By Deborah Diaz

---About Rob Walsh or "Robin"---
The year is 2014. Rob Walsh is a 49 years old retired Chief Petty Officer and private investigator.

She is a rising star as a PI. Following a certain incident with her client, she has decided to resign and spend her time writing books.

---Plot---
When Richard Smith, a her old colleagues from her PI firm invites her to solve a difficult case, Robin refuses outright. Smith pleads with Robin if she does not investigates this case, a life is at stake.

Will Robin make a come back in the game?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Betty Johnson
• Release date: May 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310234637

Book preview

Back In The Game

Smith Investigation Series Book 1

By: Deborah Diaz

Copyrighted material

Copyright 2015 by Deborah Diaz

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

About the Author

Deborah Diaz is a retired insurance adjustor. She is living at Tennessee and enjoys reading mystery novels during her free time.

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Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/deborahdiazauthor

Smashwords Edition 2015

Manufactured in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Copyright

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Recommended Readings

CHAPTER 1

I stretched and realized I’d been laying down for much too long. Turning on my side, I considered going outside. Maybe a bike ride would do me some good.

Maybe, I thought, settling more comfortably on the couch. I felt like sleeping, and I couldn’t figure out how that was possible since I had just woken up from a four-hour nap. Blinking away my tiredness, I reached for the remote control and realized it had fallen away from the coffee table.

Damn it! I exclaimed, annoyed that now I had to get up.

I rose to a sitting position and planted my hands on the couch beside me. The warm spot I had just left was calling my name, begging me to get back to sleep. I groaned a weak protest, torn between brainwashing myself watching bad TV or falling back into this weird semi-consciousness that had gradually enveloped me during the last couple of years.

I didn’t feel like standing, so I stretched out my foot to pull the remote closer. I misjudged the distance and put too much effort into the move, resulting in my falling onto my ass.

For fuck’s sake! I cried out, flipping on all fours, then leaning on my heels. Look at me!

I shook my head, feeling the emptiness inside me filling up with anger. Who was I? Who was this woman crawling after the damned remote? It wasn’t me, not the person I knew I was.

I struggled to my feet, frustrated that I couldn’t move faster. I needed to steady myself on the coffee table, and I wasn’t happy about it.

Once standing, I went to get some water and stopped in front of the tall mirror in the hallway. I scrutinized the image, squinting judgmentally. What a wreck, I whispered, taking in my slumped posture and seeing how I had shrank down from once above average height. My hair hadn’t seen the inside of a hairdressing salon in months and had grown past my shoulder. The dark circles under my eyes surrounded by more wrinkles than last time I checked, the pursed lips, everything made me look ten years older.

In an uncharacteristic fit of vanity, I looked for signs of whitening hair and was pleased to find none. I had been blessed with a natural strawberry blonde hair, presently looking less as a blessing and more as a messy mop that screamed lack of care from my part.

I couldn’t look anymore. There was nothing I liked in that mirror.

I hate you, I murmured and walked away.

The first sip of water made me aware that I was thirsty, and I ended up gulping down two glasses. Somewhat