When Rachel Fletcher, an old college flame, enters Harry James Denton's office needing his private detecting services, he'd rather not. But he prefers money to poverty, and agrees to find out what kind of dangerous business her husband is mixed up in. Conrad Fletcher is a rich surgeon with a lot of enemies. He also owes big money to a very big, very bad bookie. But by the time Harry catches up with Fletcher, he's gone from being in debt to being dead. The list of suspects could fill the Grand Ole Opry, and Harry's search for the killer will lead him into the partsof Nashville that no one ever sings about--unless they're singing the DEAD FOLKS' BLUES.

Read it!

Given to my niece's husband, Jason. It will be on it's way to Alaska with him.
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