Dark mysteries come to East Hampton while a struggling lawyer fights to save his friend from being framed for a triple murder.
Montauk lawyer Tom Dunleavy's client list is woefully small-occasional real estate closings barely keep him in paper clips. So when he is hired to defend a local man accused in a triple murder in East Hampton, he knows that he has found the case of his lifetime.
The crime turns the glittering playground for the super-rich into a blazing inferno. Dunleavy's client is a local hero, but he knows the case rests on money, deception, and forbidden desires. His client will be framed-unless he can find the key to the case.
When Dunleavy is joined by his former flame, the savvy and well-connected attorney, Kate Costello, he believes he has a chance. But payback is a bitch, especially from the rich. The violent retaliations of billionaires threatened by his investigation exceed anything Dunleavy has ever seen. With the entire nation's eyes on him in a new Trial of the Century, Dunleavy orchestrates a series of revelations that lead to a stunning outcome-and the truth is wilder than anything he ever imagined.
|Publisher:||Grand Central Publishing|
|Product dimensions:||4.25(w) x 7.62(h) x 1.12(d)|
About the Author
James Patterson has had more New York Times bestsellers than any other writer, ever, according to Guinness World Records. Since his first novel won the Edgar Award in 1977 James Patterson's books have sold more than 300 million copies. He is the author of the Alex Cross novels , the most popular detective series of the past twenty-five years, including Kiss the Girls and Along Came a Spider. He writes full-time and lives in Florida with his family.
Hometown:Palm Beach, Florida
Date of Birth:March 22, 1947
Place of Birth:Newburgh, New York
Education:B.A., Manhattan College, 1969; M.A., Vanderbilt University, 1971
Read an Excerpt
By James Patterson Peter de Jonge
Little, BrownCopyright © 2006 James Patterson
All right reserved.
Chapter OneNikki Robinson
SEVENTEEN AND CRIMINALLY CUTE, Nikki Robinson sulks through the sultry afternoon trying to keep from staring at her useless shocking-pink cell phone. She hasn't heard from Feifer in three days and is getting the awful feeling she's already been dumped and just hasn't been told yet.
So when Nikki's cell rings while she's waiting in line to pay for her drink at Kwik Mart, her heart goes off with it. She grabs for the phone so fast her best friend, Rowena, behind the counter flashes her a disapproving look that says, "Chill, girl."
Rowena is all about maintaining dignity under romantic duress, and as usual, she's right. It's only Maidstone Interiors calling about a cleaning job for Nikki out in Montauk.
Nikki has been working for Maidstone all summer and likes it okay, but the thing about Maidstone is that she never knows where they're going to send her.
It takes Nikki forty minutes to drive from Kings Highway in Bridgehampton to Montauk, and another five to find the hilly neighborhood perched just above Route 27 where all the streets are named for dead presidents-and not the recent ones, the ones who have been dead awhile.
Forty-one Monroe is neither a mansion nor a dump, but somewhere in between, and as soon as she gets through the door,she sees it's nothing catastrophic and was probably rented by a couple, maybe a small family.
Besides the steady money, what Nikki likes best about this job is that she's alone. She may be cleaning white folks' houses, but at least they aren't standing over her shoulder, watching and supervising her every move. Plus she can dress how she wants, and so she pulls off her jeans and T-shirt, revealing a skimpy two-piece bathing suit underneath. She puts on her headphones and some R. Kelly, and gets busy.
Nikki starts with the ground-floor bedroom. She gathers the dirty towels and strips the sheets, balls them up in a giant damp pile, and wrestles it down the steep basement staircase. She quickly gets the first load of wash running, then races all the way up to the second floor, and by now her dark skin, which she sometimes loves and sometimes hates, is shimmering.
When she reaches the landing, there's a funky smell in the air, as if someone's been burning incense or, now that she gets a better whiff, smoking reefer.
That's nothing too out of the ordinary. Renters can be stoners too.
But when Nikki swings open the door to the master bedroom, her heart jumps into her mouth, and yet somehow she manages to scream and to think, The white devil.
Excerpted from Beach Road by James Patterson Peter de Jonge Copyright © 2006 by James Patterson . Excerpted by permission.
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