âYou look great, David.â
âThanks.â He grinned. âHave to say that freedom agrees with me. You look beautiful, Billie.â
âI look sweaty and I smell like beer, but if thatâs your kind of galâ¦â
âYouâre my kind of girl.â
I blushed.
Suddenly, C.C. screamed.
I looked up at the barâs television. The anchor said, âAnd in a shocking twist to the release of inmate David Falco, a woman was murdered tonight in Jersey City. Sources tell CNN that the crime included a playing card left on the body. The suicide kingâ¦â
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for purchasing the first book of my new Billie Quinn series. I wanted to write this book to show a little of the real life of CSIsâunsung heroes who gather the evidence and analyze it in the lab. As in all my books, the heroine is surrounded by an eccentric âfamilyââa motley crew of misfits and unusual people who comprise her circle of friends. In this book, youâll meet Lewis LeBarge, head of the crime lab, who has a penchant for collecting brains and photos of blood spatter; Sister C.C., a nun with a passion for prison ministry; Mikey, Billieâs brother and a neâer-do-wellâbut a sweetheart anyway; and the rest of the colorful characters, such as Tommy Two Trees, an FBI agent and, like Lewis, a denizen of New Orleans.
Billie herself is brainy but street smart. Her brother and father are both involved in the mob, but she has chosen to play it mostly straight in her life. Sheâs haunted by her motherâs murder, which has only drawn her closer to the people she loves.
I hope you enjoy Billie and her friends as they fight to clear a man in prison for murder utilizing new DNA technology. Prepare for suspense and actionâ¦and enjoy!
Erica Orloff
Blood spatter was artfully arranged.
Photographs of crime-scene blood spatter, in stark black and white, were matted and framed, lining a long hallway with hardwood floors that squeaked as I walked.
I had stopped thinking of the photos as gruesome or even odd two years ago when I started working for Lewis LeBarge, my boss at New Jerseyâs State Crime Laboratory and collector of all things macabre. He told me once that it came with the territory. âSpend enough time around the dead,â he had said to me, his New Orleans accent giving him a certain Southern charm, âand eventually you come up with ways to mock the Grim Reaperâjust to let him know he hasnât wonâ¦yet.â Lewis regularly talked to The Reaper like an old friend, asking him just how or why a dead body met its maker.
âLewis?â I called out from the hallway. I had let myself in the front door of his old duplex in Weehawken.
âUp here,â he called out. âThe office.â
I climbed the stairs. There were just two small bedrooms on the second story. One was the master bedroom, and the other he used as a home office, complete with Internet links to our database in the lab.
I poked my head in. âReady?â
âFor you, darlinâ, always.â He winked at me, his prematurely gray hair giving him a distinguished look, making him seem older than his forty years.
I spied a new photo on the wall. The blood puddle next to the gunshot victim looked like black syrup. âHas anyone ever suggested to you that perhaps the reason you never make it past the first date with a woman is your taste in art?â
âNow, Billie, Iâm just waitinâ for you to realize weâre the ones meant to be together. And until thenââ he mock-sighed ââI remain alone and desperately lonely in this cold Northern city.â
âDonât give me thatâ¦your New Orleans gentleman charm is a magnet for women. Iâve seen them clustered around you like bees buzzing around a flower.â
âI never hurt for first dates, but, as you so kindly pointed out, itâs getting to date number two thatâs difficult.â
I looked over at the aquarium tank on the shelf, which housed an enormous tarantula he had named âRipper,â after the serial killer he once wrote a thesis on. Iâm not squeamishâyou canât be, working in a forensics labâbut spiders give me the creeps. Especially hairy ones.
âMaybe you should try telling them you do something sane. Boring, even. Ever try saying youâre an accountant? Working with numbers all day is certainly an improvement over saying you spent the day examining brain matter.â
âEventually, Iâd be found out. And with the exception of you, there arenât many women who enjoy discussinâ blowflies on dead bodies and the rate of maggot infestation over a lovely supper of jambalaya.â