By Laura Lippman
Until eventually her paper, the Baltimore famous person, crashed and burned, Tess Monaghan was once a rattling strong reporter who knew her place of origin in detail -- from old citadel McHenry to the crumbling tasks of Cherry Hill. Now gainfully unemployed at twenty-nine, she's keen to take any freelance task to pay the hire -- together with just a little unorthodox snooping for her rowing blood brother, Darryl "Rock" Paxton. In a urban the place anyone is murdered nearly daily, lawyer Michael Abramowitz's demise may be simply one other statistic. however the slain lawyer's notoriety -- and his noontime trysts with Rock's fiancee -- make the case entrance web page news...and issues to Rock because the most probably assassin. yet attempting to turn out her friend's innocence couls turn out high priced to Tess -- and upload her identify to that notorious ever-growing record.
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Extra resources for Baltimore Blues (Tess Monaghan Mysteries)
It would have looked hideous on most people, but against Ava’s white throat and crimson blouse, it was just the right touch. Ava handed it back with a pretty shake of regret. It’s just not as perfect as I am, she seemed to be saying. She returned to her window-shopping, venturing into stores only to sneer at the merchandise. Again and again Tess watched her hold something in front of her—a bag, a dress, a scarf, a belt—then put it back with that same charming shake of her head. Nothing suited her.
Mr. Tweedy? You poor, deprived Beacon readers, living for such paltry things. ” So they had gone out to breakfast, sharing the comics pages of Baltimore’s three newspapers. That had been five years and two newspapers ago. Tess, like Mr. Tweedy, had disappeared from the local newspapers. The Beacon, which had subsumed the Light and killed the Star, now had excellent comics pages, three in all, the usual spoils of a newspaper war. But Rock was still her friend, their relationship cemented in one of Tess’s beloved routines—rowing, then breakfast at a diner in her neighborhood.
According to a security guard’s log. The body was discovered by a custodian… There was nothing new beyond that, only boilerplate on Abramowitz and his career. Certainly nothing was new to Tess. The style and reporting were as familiar to her as a lover’s kiss. All the trademarks were there—unnamed sources, a memorable description of the death at hand, over-the-top prose, a damning detail. Still, she felt genuine admiration at the guard’s log; she bet no one else in town had that. “But I know more,” she said out loud.