Today we have an extract from this intriguing looking book and a chance to win a copy – U.S. only, sorry – of the book.
Pauper and Prince in Harlem
A vulnerable kid. A brutal enemy. An addled ally. Blood runs cold on Harlem’s hottest summer night when Drive-by assassins shoot up a crowded playground, killing the teenaged friend of private eye SJ Rook. Only fourteen, the kid was smart, affectionate, and alive with potential. His sudden death strikes the cynical Rook through the heart. Was this boy the victim of a cruel accident? Or was he targeted by gang hit men in a ruthless display of power?
To find the killers, Rook must enlist the help of another teen, Whip, a mysterious runaway witness. Whip is a transgender boy whose life on the streets has drawn him into the realm of a violent mob kingpin. Damaged by his mother’s rejection, Whip doesn’t want to be found. Not by the cops or by community do-gooders. And certainly not by Rook, a resolute stranger with vengeance on his mind. Rook’s search for the elusive kid becomes a dangerous trek through the meanest corners of his neighborhood.
Racing from desolate homeless camps to urban swamps, from settlement houses to high-rise palaces ruled by greed and corruption, the determined Rook pursues his quarry. An unexpected twist in the detective’s relationship with his crime-fighting partner, Sabrina Ross, threatens to derail his mission. Noble tramps, vicious thugs, and a pint-sized trigger woman also complicate Rook’s efforts to protect Whip. When a mob prince and a hobo hold the boy’s life in the balance will Rook’s grit and imagination be enough to save Whip and bring the killers to justice?
Purchase Links:
UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Pauper-Prince-Harlem-Agency-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0831RD7P5
US – https://www.amazon.com/Pauper-Prince-Harlem-Agency-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0831RD7P5
Extract
As he searches for a missing witness, Harlem private eye SJ Rook develops new clues with key help from his cat and his boss/girlfriend/crime fighting partner, Brina Ross.
Padding into the kitchen, Herb the cat bumped his head against my ankles. He didn’t care what Whip had eaten yesterday. Herb didn’t care if I never had another clue or plan in my entire life. He wanted his breakfast and he wanted it now. Butting his head against my ankles had worked before, so Herb tried it again, rubbing until I obeyed. I placed the bowl of cat chow next to the trash can as always. Then I set a bowl of fresh water next to it. Herb’s tail thrashed the metal bin as he bolted his breakfast. The lid was ajar. I tried to crush it closed, but the overflow resisted my push. I lifted the top to see why it wouldn’t close. Stuffed under the can’s lid was a large yellow sack, with napkins and wax paper crumpled inside. I pulled the bag out and set it on the counter, smoothing its creases with the edge of my hand. The bag matched the yellow paper coffee cup next to the sink.
Brina was still under the covers, eyes closed, but I needed answers. Now. I didn’t shout, but I raised my voice to cut through the clouds of sleep. “Did you bring anything from Tortoni’s yesterday?”
After it was out, I realized this wasn’t the ideal morning greeting. By a long shot. Fortunately, she knew my bloodhound mode. She sat up in bed, scrubbing her eyes. “No. Just those two sandwiches from the Emerald Garden. They’re still in the fridge, right?”
Her hair bobbed in bushy pineapple formation as she reeled my white dress shirt from under the bed and wrapped it around her. Someday, maybe soon, I’d suggest she leave a proper robe here. But I liked seeing her untidy this way, so different from her usual bohemian bling. This Brina, fuzzy and disorderly, belonged to me in a way the meticulous investigator never would. She approached the kitchen peninsula like a queen draped in graceful swaths of fabric. Lovely, golden, imposing, ravishing. I wanted to tell her all that, to convey something of the lyrical feelings filling me then. I should have, but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead the blunt sandwich question stepped on the greeting I’d wanted to offer. “Did you bring Whip anything more than those subs?”
Without rolling her eyes, Brina laughed in gentle correction. “Well, good morning to you, too.”
Despite the reproach, I was relieved by her laugh. Warmth spread through me, rising like a fireball from belly to ears, making my scalp tingle. The sun, burning through its early morning haze, ignited her eyes and licked flame across her cheeks. This was beauty, but nobility too; the closest I’d ever come to splendor in this life. Disappointed romantic or not, I liked the look of her in my shirt, the grace of her in my room.
When she spooned ground coffee into the filter basket, I liked her even more. She had her priorities in good order. She poked the machine to brew before she began tossing questions in my direction. “You think Whip got somebody to bring him lunch from Tortoni’s? Who’d do that?”
“Somebody who knew he liked Tortoni’s flatbread sandwiches.” I reached two mugs from an upper cabinet and set them on the counter. “A good friend, maybe.”
Author Bio –
Delia C. Pitts is the author of the Ross Agency Mysteries, a contemporary private eye series including Lost and Found in Harlem, Practice the Jealous Arts, and Black and Blue in Harlem. She is a former university administrator and U.S. diplomat, who served in West Africa and Mexico. After working as a journalist, she earned a Ph.D. in history from the University of Chicago. She has published more than sixty fan fiction titles under the pen name Blacktop. Pauper and Prince in Harlem is the fourth novel in the Ross Agency Mystery series. The fifth, Murder My Past, will be released in 2021. Learn more at her website, www.deliapitts.com
Social Media Links –
Website: www.deliapitts.com
Instagram: deliapitts50
Twitter: @blacktop1950
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