:: COMING OCT 2005 ::

Smart-talking Texas cop Cézanne Martin is back!

Mystery writer Laurie Moore blew away critics and fans alike with her confident, cool debut novel The Lady Godiva Murder. Now, smart-talking Texas cop Cézanne Martin is back in The Wild Orchid Society, the twisty follow-up to her acclaimed first novel. Three days after Fort Worth homicide detective Cézanne Martin solves The Lady Godiva Murder, the media is still looking for dirt. Lurid details of the homicide have left the PD reeling from a political black eye, and the chief is depending on Cézanne to save his hide. When the media is told she's the head of a newly formed Cold Case Squad, Cézanne realizes she's been set up to fail. After eight long years, The Great Dane Murder remains unsolved. Culling through crime scene photos, Cézanne suspects the victim may have been a member of an alternative lifestyle group with a penchant for S&M. On invitation, Cézanne infiltrates The Wild Orchid Society, whose leader sets out to discredit her with a deadly game of blackmail that could implicate Cézanne in a double homicide. Unmasking The Executioner is vital to her survival. The hooded man wants her dead, and lures Cézanne into a trap designed to put her and The Great Dane Murder both on ice in this seductive yet witty tale of dedication and depravity.

The Wild Orchid Society excerpt -

 “…As I was saying…you’re invited.”

 “Where?”

 “To a private party. Tomorrow night.”

 Behind the wall, a spectral shriek rocked Cézanne’s senses. Then only the rush of warm air could be heard through the vents.

 Ohmygod. They killed him. I’m at a crime scene.

 …The harem girl loosened the veil. It skimmed her nose and floated off to one side. Thin wisps of strawberry blonde hair stuck out from under Turkish silk. Cézanne’s veins iced over. 

 Cissy Kissel.

 The face matched the updated driver’s license photo Sid picked up from the issuing office of the Texas Department of Public Safety…Cézanne felt the lightheaded rush of someone about to black out.

 The Great Dane’s widow said, “Will you come? Nothing would please my Master more.”

 She pressed an unobtrusive business card into Cézanne’s hand. It was trimmed into the shape of a flower, its texture made richer by petals embossed into the pastel paper.

 Cézanne dropped her gaze.

 The Wild Orchid Society.

 And a phone number.

 I’m in.

 Her heart thundered in her chest. “Who’s your Master?”

 A deep, resonant voice came from behind. “I am.”

 Cézanne’s pulse skidded. No introduction necessary for the muscular man without a shirt, and a chest so smooth it looked like it had been waxed, bare, with some ancient, Egyptian formula. She flinched at the sight of a stun-gun, then forced herself to stare past the black hood, directly into obsidian eyes, hypnotic and steady behind the slitted holes.

 The Executioner.