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About This Book
Murder…drugs…money…are they all connected? That's what Marshall Jenkins wants to find out as he takes his first case since his wife's death three months ago. But as he investigates, he starts to wonder if Jenny's death was also somehow connected. Find out as Marshall tries to discover the Memphis Connection.
Excerpt:
He sat at a table with an associate and two women in a barbecue restaurant in Memphis. It had been an enjoyable evening; then he noticed the large black man sitting at the bar. The gentleman was dressed in a blue suit and wore about half a jewelry store worth of gold on his fingers, wrist, and around his neck. He knew he was the object of the man's attention and it meant work.
The two dates had excused themselves and he saw a large chubby finger summon him. He excused himself and approached the man who slowly reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to him.
He slowly opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He unfolded it and read.
Mr. Johnson,
I have a particular job for you that requires your talents. You are to go to the coordinates at the bottom of the page along with the date and time. There you will find a briefcase: it will contain the tools you will use and an envelope that will hold your compensation for the evening. You will see a signal to begin your work from north of this position. You have served us well in the past and we are sure you will in this project.
Mr. Washington will answer any questions you might have, but I expect none. I will trust your discretion and loyalty.
Sincerely;
Mr. Turner
He knew who had written the letter and who had typed it. He also knew he should not ask Mr. Washington any questions. There would be no problems with the project. There never had been in the past.
He wrote the date, time, and coordinates down on a card and slipped them in his jacket pocket. He handed the letter back to Mr. Washington, smiled and returned to his table.
Excerpt:
He sat at a table with an associate and two women in a barbecue restaurant in Memphis. It had been an enjoyable evening; then he noticed the large black man sitting at the bar. The gentleman was dressed in a blue suit and wore about half a jewelry store worth of gold on his fingers, wrist, and around his neck. He knew he was the object of the man's attention and it meant work.
The two dates had excused themselves and he saw a large chubby finger summon him. He excused himself and approached the man who slowly reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to him.
He slowly opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He unfolded it and read.
Mr. Johnson,
I have a particular job for you that requires your talents. You are to go to the coordinates at the bottom of the page along with the date and time. There you will find a briefcase: it will contain the tools you will use and an envelope that will hold your compensation for the evening. You will see a signal to begin your work from north of this position. You have served us well in the past and we are sure you will in this project.
Mr. Washington will answer any questions you might have, but I expect none. I will trust your discretion and loyalty.
Sincerely;
Mr. Turner
He knew who had written the letter and who had typed it. He also knew he should not ask Mr. Washington any questions. There would be no problems with the project. There never had been in the past.
He wrote the date, time, and coordinates down on a card and slipped them in his jacket pocket. He handed the letter back to Mr. Washington, smiled and returned to his table.