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Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Love best-selling fiction?
  3. Also by McGarvey Black
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. Acknowledgements
  60. A note from the publisher
  61. Love best-selling fiction?
  62. You will also enjoy:

Zoe stopped running and bent over to catch her breath, inhaling deeply several times to regulate her pulse. “Hey,” she said, smiling as she walked towards Devlin. “I read your new piece in The Echo this morning. Horrible story. That poor girl. It made me so sad. What would make a school teacher take a chance like that? None of it makes any sense.”

“It does if you’re looking for drugs,” said the photographer. “Happens all the time.”

“But Karina Kubiak had money, connections, a good life. She could have gotten drugs in a much safer way. She didn’t have to go into Central Park alone in the middle of the night. You know what I think?”

“I can’t wait,” muttered Devlin, looking around to make sure he wasn’t missing something important.

“I’ve heard there’s a Polish gang that hangs out at the north end of the park at night,” said Zoe with confidence.

“I’ve never heard that,” said Devlin. “Polish, you mean from Poland?”

“That’s usually where Polish people come from,” said Zoe matter-of-factly, causing the photographer to snort. “I’m quite sure about this because this is my hood. The north end of the park is filled with Polish people drinking vodka all night.”

The photographer snorted again as Devlin’s face contorted. “Drinking vodka all night?” said the incredulous reporter.

“And selling guns and drugs, too. Maybe Karina Kubiak was a Polish spy passing information through the thugs in the park,” said Zoe. “That would explain why she was there.”

“What are you talking about?” said Devlin. “The police think this was a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They think she was trying to score some drugs for herself, not pass on international nuclear codes. And, they haven’t ruled out that she was a victim of the West Side Strangler.”

“I understand,” said Zoe, “but think about it. Her name was Karina Kubiak. Kubiak is a Polish name.”

“Having a Polish name doesn’t make someone a Polish spy. My name is Devlin, that’s Irish. That doesn’t make me a member of the IRA. My partner here is Phil Boniglio, he’s Italian-American. Phil, are you in the mafia?”

“Not anymore,” said the photographer, laughing.

“Ms. Brandt, you have way too much time on your hands,” said Devlin as he signaled to the photographer to move away.

“Just keep that Polish connection in the back of your mind. I have a hunch I’m right about that,” said Zoe as she waved and ran off towards her apartment.