Excerpt of Without A Clue by Trish Jensen

"Our corpse is drunk."

Megan Renshaw glanced up from the script before her. Her assistant, Tina Brown, stood at the entrance to the study of the old Charleston plantation. "Pardon me?"

Tina stomped further into the room, hands planted on slim hips. "You heard me. Our corpse has arrived. And he's high as a kite."

Megan sat back and dropped her pen. "Well, he has time to sober up. The paying guests don't arrive until Friday."

"A cement truck could land on that man's head and he wouldn't feel it."

"This isn't a problem," Megan said, sliding back her chair and standing. "We'll get Glenda to pour some coffee down him."

Tina scowled. "Drunk and drunker."