No Shield from the Dead

It is a Since Fiction Book. It was a nice little party, but a bit obvious. Terri Mac saw through it before he had taken half a dozen steps into the apartment. A light flush staining his high cheek bones. This is ridiculous, he said. The light chatter ceased. Cocktail glasses were set down on various handy tables and ledges; and all faces in the room turned toward a man in his late fifties who sat propped up invalid wise on pillows in a chair in a corner of the room.