The Photo Collector
They nodded, hopeful that maybe—just maybe—my plan would bail us out of this mess.
“I won’t guarantee this to be one hundred percent successful, but this is the only choice that I have for us.” I closed my eyes. I was deadpan on the outside, but deep within, I was jumping with glee. Another case. Another mystery. Another murder. Finally, a good dose of my own drugs.
Chuck walked behind his bandmate, Jieve. “Say it now, Travis,” he pleaded as he hanged his arm on his pal’s shoulder.
I swallowed. “Okay. Here’s my three steps on how to get away with murder.” I turned around, followed with my eyes the tracks of blood that led back to the doorway of the music room.
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