Read Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 09 - The Crystal Skull Murders Online

Authors: Kent Conwell

Tags: #Mystery: Thriller - P.I. - San Antonio

Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 09 - The Crystal Skull Murders

Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 09 - The Crystal Skull Murders
Tony Boudreaux [9]
Kent Conwell
Avalon (2008)
Tags:
Mystery: Thriller - P.I. - San Antonio
Mystery: Thriller - P.I. - San Antoniottt
After a few harrowing months of stumbling through catacombs beneath a New Orleans cemetery, evading alligators at Bayou Teche, and dodging a band of fanatics searching for a crystal skull and torching rap clubs, Tony Boudreaux figures he deserves a rest. So when a San Antonio client offers a $10,000 retainer to find a priceless map hidden in his deceased father's den, Tony takes the job. He enjoys the ambience of the city and the exotic venue of the River Walk.
To his dismay, the simple task of finding a hidden map explodes into a series of attempts on his life and two murders with over a half dozen suspects, all of whom stood to gain from the map rumored to have been ancient even in the time of Alexander the Great.

A Tony Boudreaux Mystery

 

Death in the French Quarter

The Swamps of Bayou Teche

Extracurricular Murder

The Ying On Triad

Death in the Distillery

Skeletons of the Atchafalaya

Galveston

Vicksburg

Other Mysteries by Kent Conwell:

The Riddle of Mystery Inn

 

Kent Conwell

 
 
 

If someone had asked me what a chauvinistic female,
a dead wino, a torched hip-hop bar, a crystal skull, and
five million dollars had in common, I would have answered absolutely nothing!

As usual, I was wrong. They spelled out big-time
trouble for me.

And trouble is exactly what slapped me in the face
when my boss, Marty Blevins, called me into his office
on the first Monday of autumn.

Sitting in one of the two chairs in front of his battered
desk with her back to me was a woman whose black hair
draped over the shoulders of her black business suit.

Although it was only 9:30 on that September 25, two
days after autumn ushered in a welcome cool front, a
sheen of sweat glistened on Marty’s rotund face. As usual, he wore a rumpled suit of tan linen. As usual,
his garish tie was loosened. As usual, his collar was
unbuttoned-typical Marty Blevins, owner of Blevins’
Investigations, my humble home for the last several
years.

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