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Crais, Robert - [Elvis Cole 05] Voodoo River

"Like the thick, rich mix in a Louisiana gumbo, Elvis Cole's latest case has enough spice and flavor to make you wish for more even before you've finished this helping. . . . You'll love this book."
ЧBruce Southworth, Bookpage

"Elvis Cole, in his fifth appearance, is in fine form. He's as tough, witty, and clever as ever, and his partner Pike exudes danger like no one in suspense fiction this side of Spenser's Hawk."
ЧWes Lukowsky, Booklist

"Elvis Cole is the King of Smart-Aleck Detectives, and Voodoo River is another jewel in his throne. All the things you love about this genre -- snappy dialogue, crisp action and vivid characters -- are here in spades. Crais is clearly the undisputed leader in the field; Voodoo River a book deserving of much attention."
-- Don Crouch, Mostly Murder

"Look for great dialogue, scary action, a twisty plot, and lots of quality time with an irresistible private eye."
-- Mary Cannon, Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine

VOODOO RIVER

Copyright й 1995, Robert Crais

FOR STEVE VOLPE, proprietor of The Hangar, trusted friend,
and the best stack man in the business. Semper fidelis.





ROBERT CRAIS

VOODOO RIVER


CHAPTER 1

I met Jodi Taylor and her manager for lunch on the Coast Highway in Malibu, not far from Paradise Cove and the Malibu Colony. The restaurant was perched on the rocks overlooking the ocean, and owned by a chef who had his own cooking show on public television. A saucier. The restaurant was bright and airy, with spectacular views of the coast to the east and the Channel Islands to the south. A grilled tuna sandwich cost eighteen dollars. A side of fries cost seven-fifty. They were called frites.

Jodi Taylor said, "Mr. Cole, can you keep a secret?"

"That depends, Ms. Taylor. What kind of secret did you have in mind?"

Sid Markowitz leaned forward, bugging his eyes at me. "This meeting. No one is to know that we've talked to you, or what we've discussed, whether you take the job or not. We okay on that?" Sid Markowitz was Jodi Taylor's personal manager, and he looked like a frog.

"Sure," I said. "Secret. I'm up to that."

Sid Markowitz didn't seem convinced. "You say that now, but I wanna make sure you mean it. We're talking about a celebrity here." He made a little hand move toward Jodi Taylor. "We fill you in, you could run to a phone, the Enquirer might pay you fifteen, twenty grand for this."

I frowned. "Is that all?"

Markowitz rolled the bug eyes. "Don't even joke about that."

Jodi Taylor was hiding behind oversized sunglasses, a loose-fitting man's jeans jacket, and a blue Dodgers baseball cap pulled low on her forehead. She was without makeup, and her curly, dusky-red hair had been pulled into a ponytail through the little hole in the back of the cap. With the glasses and the baggy clothes and the hiding, she didn't look like the character she played on national television every week, but people still stared. I wondered if they, too, thought she looked nervous. She touched Markowitz's arm. "I'm sure it's fine, Sid. Peter said we could trust him. Peter said he's the best there is at this kind of thing, and that he is absolutely trustworthy." She turned back to me and smiled, and I returned it. Trustworthy. "Peter likes you quite a bit, you know."