By Tom Cooper
Whilst the BP oil spill devastates the Gulf coast, those that made a residing by way of shrimping locate themselves in dire straits. For the oddballs and lowlifes who inhabit the sleepy, operating type bayou city of Jeannette, those determined situations function the catalyst that pushes them to enact no matter what dicy schemes they could dream as much as opposite their fortunes. on the heart of all of it is Gus Lindquist, a pill-addicted, one armed treasure hunter keen about discovering the misplaced treasure of pirate Jean Lafitte. His quest brings him into touch with a wide range of memorable characters, starting from a number of small time felony potheads at risk of hysterical banter, to the smooth-talking Oil corporation intermediary out to bamboozle his personal mom, to a couple drug smuggling psychopath twins, to a tender guy estranged from his father considering his mom died in storm Katrina. because the tale progresses, those characters locate themselves on a collision path with one another, and because the rigidity and motion ramp up, it turns into transparent that no longer them all will live to tell the tale those occasions.
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Sample text
Why didnt you finish? I developed an unknown-to-science allergy to Anglo-Irish accents, I told him. He liked that. UCD going to bring you out in a rash? Ill take my antihistamines. Frank hopped off his desk and went to the window, motioning me to follow. OK, he said. See that couple down there? A guy and a girl, walking up the street, talking. She found keys and let them into a depressing apartment block. Tell me about them, Frank said. He leaned back against the window and hooked his thumbs in his belt, watching me.
Your wound can get infected, he said, brightening. Youll go into the ICU and the doctors will try everything modern medicine can offer, but no go. Jesus Christ on a bike, I said. I felt like this was all I had said, all morning long. What on earth is making this seem like a good idea to you? Whats next? Frank asked. Come on, hit me. Next, Sam said, still looking away down the lane, its bloody dangerous. Frank raised one eyebrow and tilted his head at Sam, giving me a wicked private grin. For an off-balance second I had to stop myself grinning back.
Sam looking sick, Frank on the case and not wanting me spotted at the scene: it read a lot like an undercover had got killed. Gorgeous as always, Frank said. He held the crime-scene tape for me to duck under, and it was so familiar, I had made that quick easy movement so many times, that for a split second it felt like coming home. I automatically settled my gun at my belt and glanced over my shoulder for my partner, as if this was my own case I were coming to, before I remembered. Heres the story, Sam said.