Death On A No 8 Hook (A Willows And Parker Mystery) - Plot & Excerpts
Orwell had three tall glasses of lukewarm water lined up in front of him, and one small glass of carrot juice. On the polished wooden counter next to the juice was a paper cup containing his daily intake of vitamin pills. Orwell picked up the cup and shook it gently. The pills made a faint rustling sound. He emptied the cup into the palm of his hand and began eating the pills one by one, washing them down with mouthfuls of water. Judith sipped her milk, watching him. Orwell had just finished bench-pressing two tons of iron in increments of 250 pounds. He was pumped up, his blood racing through distended flesh. Judith could see the bulging outline of his muscles through the thick material of his sweatsuit, and she could smell the perfume of his overheated body. He smelled good. He also smelled nervous, worried. It had been more than a month since they’d stopped going out together. Judith had missed Orwell a great deal, but her sense of pride had stopped her from getting in touch with him, despite the temptation.
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