A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries) - Plot & Excerpts
The breeze felt like silk on my skin. Seven-thirty was a good time of night in the Central West End. The street lamps lit the dusky shadows of evening making golden orbs for me to follow home. In the warmth of that June evening, I allowed myself to feel good. The streets were parked up early with Porsches, and every other expensive car imaginable. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to park on the street. I bypassed the trendy restaurants and antique shops, turning down the alley behind my parents’ house. Their street, Hawthorne Avenue, was the best section and had alleyways between streets. The houses had servants’ staircases and high-six-figure price tags. Dad lucked into our house in the seventies. He did the Bled family a favor, and my godmothers practically gave him the house as a thank-you. He never could’ve afforded it any other way, even when the area was at its lowest ebb. Hawthorne Avenue was an island of exclusion. I parked in the garage and walked up through the garden to the back porch.
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