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From Himalayan stargazing to the London Blitzβ€”one love endures.

BEST DEFENSE

Best Defense, November 2013
Beth Bowman, P.I. #2
by Randy Rawls

Midnight Ink
Featuring: Beth Bowman
ISBN: 0738734616
EAN: 9780738734613
Trade Size
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"This time, South Florida PI Beth Bowman finds herself leading the investigation of a kidnapping case."

Fresh Fiction Review

BEST DEFENSE
Randy Rawls

Reviewed by Tanzey Cutter
Posted September 20, 2013

Mystery Cozy | Mystery Woman Sleuth

After her divorce three years ago, Beth Bowman left the

Dallas police force, moved to South Florida and became a

PI. She's found it's a job she loves.

When powerful criminal defense attorney John Hammonds' wife

is murdered and his young daughter kidnapped, Hammonds

insists that Beth be the one to handle getting her back.

Hammonds' past experiences with the local police have him

convinced they will muck up the job and endanger his

daughter's life. The police don't like it, but have no

other choice than to let Beth take the lead.

Realizing she will need some specialized assistance, Beth

puts her trust in good friend/bar owner Bob Sandiford and

his motley crew of homeless comrades for their street-

smarts and knack of invisibility as she investigates clues.

With few leads, it becomes a harried race against time to

save the little girl.

BEST DEFENSE by Randy Rawls is a nice follow-up to

the first book in this delightful series. As a short little

mystery, BEST DEFENSE is a quick read with a returning cast

of quirky characters and a well-devised plot.

Learn more about BEST DEFENSE

SUMMARY

When private eye Beth Bowman's latest client, society wife Sabrina Hammonds, is found dead, she's sure the woman's two- timing husband decided it would be easier to off her than pay a hefty divorce settlement. To Beth's surprise, Sabrina may have been wrongly suspicious, and the desperate widower, hot-shot defense attorney John Hammonds, might not be a murderer or a cheat. Hammonds has represented the most vile slime in Delray Beach, and he suspects one of them has killed his wife and kidnapped their five-year-old daughter. Teaming up with her gang of bawdy street friends, Beth sets out to rescue the girl.

EXCERPT

While I spoke to Mom on the phone, Dot and I reached my car and crawled in. I felt good, good that Mom would be out of my hair for a few days and good that I'd been able to solve her problem. I sure wasn't making any headway on mineβ€”finding Ashley. Then I remembered Dot mentioning an idea. "Okay, let's hear it. What's the brainstorm you came up with?" Dot twisted in the seat to face me. "You might not like it, but it's a shorefar way to find out if that little girl is in one of them houses. That's what you want, ain't it?" "Yes," I said, wondering where she was heading. We'd already spent a couple of hours with each house and come up empty. "I know how to find out. It can't miss, works ev'ry time." I stared at her, not doubting her, but trying to guess her plan. When nothing surfaced, I said, "How?" "Garbage. Ev'rything you ever need to know about a house is in the trash. All I got to doβ€”" "You're talking about dumpster-diving, aren't you?" I was so incredulous my voice had jumped into falsetto. "I don't want to do that." "Why not?" Dot said, defiance in her eyes. "I done a whole lot worse. And who said anythang about you? You just drive. I wouldn't expect you to mess up your purdy manicure. Hell, you could even break a nail or get one stinky." Oops, I'd crossed a line, and it was time to hop back over. "I'm sorry, Dot. I didn't mean it that way." I hesitated. "I just meant, is this something we really want to do?" "I told you," Dot said, her voice still not normal. "Just drive the dang car, and I'll do the diving. The answer's in the garbage." "That's not what I mean." I could see Dot's back was up and probably wasn't coming down anytime soon. More discussion followed, but Dot was determined. The more she talked and the more I listened, the more convinced I became she was right. If there was a five-year-old in the house, the garbage held the evidence. However, there was no way I could let Dot go by herself. If someone called the cops, she'd be in handcuffs in a flash. If I were along, my PI license would cut us some slackβ€”maybe. It might slow the police down long enough for me to tell them I worked for Chief Elston. And throwing John Hammonds' name around should carry some weight, too. It took another ten minutes before Dot gave in and agreed I could go with herβ€”as long as I did exactly what she said. What she said was, "You better be damn careful 'round the back of them houses. Don't go knockin' no cans over or bangin' 'm togther. Ain't no way nobody will think it's cats." She said it with a great deal of reluctance in her voice, but I might have seen a smile try to creep through. I vowed to make up for her hurt feelings later. In the meantime, I thought her rule was perfect. My dumpster-diving experience was nil. I'd raided a few paper recycling bins, but never searched a garbage can. It was her show. * * * Three hours later, I drove toward Bobby's Bar. Dot's thoroughness had given me a whole new appreciation for those who man the garbage trucks every day. In my newfound appreciation, they were unsung heroes on a level with soldiers, police officers, firemen, teachers, and others who go above and beyond. I vowed to call them Sanitation Engineers from that day forth. They deserved a special title. It only took one experience for me to learn not to have my head over the can when I yanked the lid off. That single burst of South Florida sun-baked garbage stench almost knocked me off my feet while Dot stood by and laughed. From then on, it was reach as far as I could, keep my head turned, hold my breath, and lift. I supposed it was something I could use on my resume if I got desperate enough. However, I never intended to get that desperate. I might admire the Sanitation Engineers, but I had no intention of ever joining them.

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