Wednesday, December 10, 2014

@SensuousPromos presents: Murder Most Foul

 Welcome to Sensuous Promos Book Tour for 
Murder Most Foul by JoAnne Myers!

When two dismembered torsos wash up on the banks of the local river in the small industrial town of Pleasant Valley, residents are horrified. Between contradicting statements, police ineptitude, lust, lies, manipulation, incest, the motorcycle gang The Devil’s Disciples, crooked cops, and a botched crime scene, everyone becomes a suspect.

The young beautiful Jackie Reeves, a registered nurse, believes the killer is a man from her past. She contacts the dangerously handsome FBI Agent Walker Harmon. An arrest is made, but Harmon and Jackie believe an innocent man is being railroaded by local cops. Determined to find the truth, before anymore killings, Agent Harmon and Jackie are forced to run a gauntlet of deep trouble and turmoil, which marks them for death.


As dusk turned to night the two men raced down a dark alley, stinking of rancid garbage, then through the cluttered yard of an out-of-business welding company. They stirred up a flurry of stray cats rummaging trash cans and a number of barking dogs that diligently notified their owners of the chase, until Harmon outran the transient.

“You've been bird-dogging me for two days, now. Who are you, and what do you want?” he demanded

The scrawny man with dope-hungry eyes, said, “My name is Greg Ferris. I think drug dealers killed them kids.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harmon sneered. “What do you know?”

“Well, I party with the men livin' under the bridge. Weeks before the murders, me and Fred Layman seen people sellin' drugs in the cornfield. Now I know every drug dealer in town, but I never saw them afore. Then, the evenin' those kid's wuz killed, me, and the Bush Brothers, heard shots comin' from the cornfield, but we wuz too drunk to check it out. Days later, when the bodies wuz found, we figured the murders went on in the cornfield.”

“Any proof?” Harmon asked, releasing Ferris.

“Fred said the dead girl's underwear and a knife, found under the bridge, wuz confiscated by cops. Then Captain Malloy showed Fred a picture of Vernon James, and Fred told Malloy the man he saw on the riverbank, wuz not Vernon James.”

Surprised, Harmon asked, “Did Malloy show anyone else a photograph of Mr. James?”

“The Bush Brothers,” said Ferris. “Then after the murders, they changed. I think they know who the killer is and got scared; that's why they took off. I tried talkin' to ‘em about that evenin' by gettin' ‘em drunk, but either they passed out or I did. Then I told ‘em to talk to the cops, but, since Sheriff Brown laughed at Fred when he told him what he saw, the brothers didn't think anybody will believe them either. Plus, there's this weird guy who sometimes lives in the cornfield. He eats cats he catches in traps, and collects guns and knives.”

Realizing the creep had some good information, Harmon asked, “What caliber guns?”

“I know he had two handguns, a .22 and a .44.”

“And can you describe his knives?” Harmon asked.

“He had two Bowie-types and a third knife, even larger, strapped to his side. The big one was his favorite. He kept it real sharp.”

Catching his breath, Harmon nodded. “Maybe so, but people said Vernon James carried a knife until the murders. Do you know anything about the dead girl?”

“I heard she talked to a Jane Doe, who -” A shot fired from the nearby darkness silenced Greg Ferris forever. He dropped to the ground–dead!

Yanking out his gun, Harmon whirled around. The sounds of moving bushes gave him his only lead, and another chase began.

The agent ran through the brush and along the railroad track with only star shine for light. Solely the sound of fading footsteps and an occasional glimpse of a distorted silhouette kept him going. “Stop! F.B.I.!” he shouted, periodically, between gulps for air.

The killer darted into a backyard. Harmon, stopping at the edge of the lawn, crept forward, gun extended. Abruptly, he was clubbed from behind and knocked to the round, losing his weapon.

Kicking the agent in the ribs, his attacker had the upper hand, until Harmon grabbed up a rock and clobbered the sniper's kneecap.

“Ahhhhh!” the killer screamed.

Leaping to his feet, Harmon punched the guy...but again was hit from behind. After regaining his senses, he found himself blinded by a police searchlight, his assailant long-gone.

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