One Deadly Sister

What others are saying about

One Deadly Sister

“...an excellent plot which keeps readers glued to the pages until the very end. A great read!”

--Goodread.com

'...a clever plot enfolds, firmly supported by interesting characters. If you like mysteries, you'll enjoy this one. No loose ends.'

--Scripps Treasure Coast Newspapers

'...a murder mystery at its best...a great and realistic story line that will keep you guessing till the end.'

--Michele Tater, ReviewTheBook.com

'If you enjoy mysteries that keep your mind guessing and racing until the very end, you don't want to miss this story.'

--Feathered Quill Book Reviews

One Deadly Sister

by

Rod Hoisington

Copyright 2010 Rod Hoisington

Chapter 1

When Ray Reid phoned his sister in Philadelphia and told her he was in a Florida jail on a murder charge, she told him to go to hell.

She slammed down her cell, shoved the book off her lap, and got out of bed. Nervy bastard. He can’t really be doing this. Why didn’t he make his one phone call to a friend or a lawyer for Christ’s sake?

Sleepless now, she clicked on the eleven o’clock news: something about an assassination in Florida, some politician. She heard her brother’s name.

She picked up the phone then tossed it back down—she didn’t need this. He had ignored her distress call years ago, and they had lived on different planets ever since. She stared at the phone. It rang startling her. “I told you to go to hell.”

“You didn’t tell me anything. Are you in some kind of trouble, Sandy?”

“Joanna, is that you?”

“Yeah, worked late as usual, just got home. I wanted to warn you, some media types phoned for you at the office. You’ve had calls from Fox, some producer at WCAU-TV, and—get this—I talked to Gretchen Henson at CNN, in person. They wanted your home address and cell. Luckily, I was the only one in the office. They got nothing from me. What’d you do, kill someone?”

“Maybe my brother did. He got himself tossed in a Florida jail. How’d they trace me so fast?”

“I thought you told me your brother is dead.”

“He was, now he’s trying to resurrect himself. He wants me to go down there and help him. He mentioned some problem with a woman.”

“You going?”

“And screw up my great job up here? Not likely.”

“Well, good luck with the media. You’d better figure on extra mirror-time in the morning. If they’re not at your door with the cameras at dawn, they soon will be. Let me know if I can help.” And Joanna said goodnight.

Back in bed, Sandy turned off the bedside light, and jerked the covers over her. Damn him upsetting her like this, she thought. Should go down there just to watch him suffer. It was no use; she was too irritated to sleep.

She turned on the light, found her phone, and scrolled down to his call. He answered on the first ring. She snapped, “You managed to get yourself on the national news and now the media are after me. Thank you very much.”

“Sandy! You called back, great to hear your voice.”

“You’re guessing it’s me, you forgot what my voice sounds like. Did you happen to give out any info about me down there?”

“No, well—maybe, the detective asked if I had any family. I said just a sister in Philadelphia.”

“Damn it, why did you give them my name?”

“I didn’t see any harm. I tried to show I was a straight guy with nothing to hide.”

“My employer was called already. Raymond, I work for a classy law firm with a spotless reputation. I could lose my job if the media disrupts the office.” She understood it wasn’t his fault if some jerk cop down there leaked her name to the media. She cooled off just a bit. “How come you rate a phone in jail, anyway?”

“The police took mine for evidence to examine the directory to see who I’ve called and who’s phoned me. They gave me this disposable loaner.”

“It’s tapped Raymond, the old loaner-cellphone trick. Watch what you say.”

“They think I’m calling my mob mouthpiece in Philly right now. Anyway I’m innocent.”

“Innocence is beside the point. Suspicion is your problem.” She tried to sound unconcerned. “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to ask how I’ve been the last few years?”

“Oh yes, how are you Sandy?”

“You see, I get this call from some guy who says he’s my brother. I heard my brother moved to Florida, but it can’t be him because he never calls me. As much as I’d enjoy his being in trouble, there’s no way he’d be so ballsy as to phone me. You’ve got the wrong number, buddy.”

“Sorry. I’m not very good at keeping in touch.”

“Are you going to pretend you actually do call me now and then?”

“Didn’t I phone at Christmas?”

“Yeah, two years ago, you wanted someone’s address. The TV says you murdered a senator. So, you work there as a hit man?”

“No, I landed a good job down here with a stockbroker doing what I did in Philadelphia. The dead guy was a