Dirty Money

by Steven Womack

Overview

How did Nashville P.I. Harry James Denton wind up working as a maintenance man in the world's most famous house of ill repute? Because the Feds made him a deal: help smoke out a money-laundering operation secretly being run in Reno's notorious, legendary, legal cathouse, the Mustang Ranch.

After failing to reconcile with his ex-, who's about to give birth to their daughter, doing some simple snooping in a house full of gorgeous girls sounds like a good deal. But it turns out to be a raw deal when one of the Mustang girls turns up murdered and Harry is the prime suspect. The only way to save his neck is to risk it--and that means making a Nevada-sized gamble that he can corner a killer who holds all the aces.

In a place where the money is dirtier than ever...

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781732189959
Publisher:	Spearhead Press
Publication date:	07/14/2018
Series:	Harry James Denton , #6
Pages:	358
Product dimensions:	5.06(w) x 7.81(h) x 0.74(d)

About the Author

Steven Womack lives in Nashville, Tennessee. He is the author of the Edgar Award-winning mystery Dead Folks' Blues, as well as Torch Town Boogie, Way Past Dead, Chain of Fools, and Murder Manual. Mr. Womack is also the screenwriter for two made-for-TV movies: the Cable Ace-nominated Proudheart and Volcano: Fire on the Mountain.

Read an Excerpt

Preacher Jellison grabbed her arm as she spun to storm down the mountain and back to her tent. "Let me go!"
This was no longer her proudest day. All she wanted to do now was pack up her few belongings, get out of Piney Creek, and pretend these last minutes of stupidity on her part and insult on their part had never happened.
Preacher Jellison held her at arm's length, keeping his body away from her kicking feet and flailing fist. "Shame on you, gentlemen. The angel of mercy who put herself in grave peril to save your worthless hides ..." Pausing, he took a minute to stare into the unhappy gaze of every man present. "... wants a baby."
Billy Brown rose to the occasion. "And by God one of us is going to give her one," he promised grimly, speaking between clenched teeth. "We are going to repay the debt we owe. Aren't we, boys?"
They looked at her now, sliding sidelong glances of speculation in her direction before they looked up at Billy Brown again. A long sigh of resignation skittered down the mountainside like an ill wind.
Stony Marks stepped forward. "I think Low Down is a good-hearted woman, and she might be right tolerable if she was cleaned up some," he said gamely. "But much as I'd like to honor our debt and do my part to repay her for keeping my butt alive, I can't be the man who does the poking. I'm married." He looked to Preacher Jellison to back him up. "It wouldn't be right to ask a married man to sin against his innocent wife."
"Well, damn. He's got a point, Billy." Preacher Jellison tightened his iron grip on Low Down's arm. She tried, but she couldn't pry off his fingers.
"Damned if he don't," Billy Brown agreed unhappily. "But we can cope with thisdevelopment. You married men step over there beside the big spruce." He counted the bachelors remaining in front of Olaf's porch steps. "All right. We got twenty-three contenders."
"We got twenty-four," Jack Hart said sharply. "McCord, get over here. You ain't married."
Max McCord appealed to Billy Brown and Preacher Jellison. "I'm as good as, since I'm pledged to marry in two weeks, and I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Yeah, well, you ain't wed yet. You wouldn't even be alive to think about getting married if Low Down hadn't nursed your sorry butt back to life. So get on over here with the rest of us!"
For the span of a heartbeat, Low Down thought McCord would refuse. Since she'd read his letter to Miss Philadelphia Houser, she would have understood. But he marched forward with a frown and joined the men waiting in front of the steps. The bachelors glared at the married men, who had helped themselves to more beer and who grinned back. Then everyone scowled up at Billy Brown, waiting for whatever would happen next.
"I'm asking one last time for a volunteer," Billy Brown said in a coaxing tone.
The only thing Low Down heard was her own teeth grinding together as she considered taking a bite out of Preacher Jellison's arm and breaking free. To hell with them all.
Except she wanted a baby. And they had promised.
"It isn't you," Albie Davidson said, spreading his arms and giving her an apologetic look. "Well, it's you, but what I mean is, I just can't think of you as a woman. You're one of us, you know? One of the boys."
"You're all bastards," she shouted, struggling to jerk free of Preacher Jellison's grip.
Preacher Jellison hissed at her. "This is what you want. Now stop fighting and take whatever you're given. The Lord works in mysterious ways."
She couldn't argue with that. Because the Lord had sent an epidemic down on Piney Creek, she had a chance to get the one thing she longed for. That is, if one of these bastards agreed to sleep with her and if she could stomach sleeping with him. At the moment, that was a big if. She hated them all. But she reckoned she'd put up enough of a fight to appease her injured pride so she didn't stomp off in a huff when Preacher Jellison released her.
"Hold everything," Preacher Jellison called suddenly, his gaze going sharp. "What did I just hear?"
Billy Brown sighed. "Albie is going to place twenty-four marbles in a hat. I'll scratch an X on one of them. Whoever draws the marble with the X has to poke Low Down."
Preacher Jellison strode forward, his florid face clamping into a thunderous expression. He climbed up to Olaf's porch and elbowed Billy Brown aside.
"What are you pathetic sinners thinking of? You don't thank God for sparing your lives by committing a sin with His angel of mercy. No sir! I won't stand for that, and neither will the Almighty. Whoever draws that marble with the X marries this woman! I'm warning you. Anything less than marriage is just begging God to smite you with disaster. God didn't save your butts to have you spit on His commandments!"
"Oh my gawd," Billy Brown said, staring in disbelief. "Marry her? Lord A'mighty, this just gets worse and worse."
"Now wait a damned minute," Low Down shouted over the roar of protest. Shock widened her eyes. "I never said anything about marrying or a husband! All I want is a baby!" Preacher Jellison was turning this into something she'd never intended and didn't want. Shouting to get his attention, she fought to be heard. "No husband. Just a baby!"
The preacher pulled a worn Bible from his jacket pocket and waved it above his head for all to see. "Would you offend God by heaping sin on your angel of mercy?" He flung a pointing finger at Low Down.
"Honestly, I don't mind having a little sin heaped on me. Just enough to get a baby, and I don't think God would object to that too much. I don't want to do this if it means getting married. I just want a baby, that's all." Her voice trailed when she realized no one was listening. All attention was focused on the preacher.
"Does this good woman's child deserve to be born a bastard? Is there any son of a bitch here who truly believes that piling sin and shame on this woman and her child is the way to thank her? Is that your idea of expressing gratitude to the woman who saved your miserable lives?" Contempt curled his lip.
"Listen, on second thought, a pi-ano would be real nice," Low Down said loudly. She didn't know how to play a piano and had no place to keep one, but those problems could be worked out.
No one paid her a lick of attention. Preacher Jellison was gathering momentum and working up a lather, holding his audience spellbound with the thunder of his voice and the weight of his listeners' increasing guilt. By the time the last echo resounded off the opposite valley wall, the married men were in a fury of righteous indignation, shouting insults at the bachelors, castigating them as selfish weaseling ingrates who were going to call down the wrath of God on everyone if they didn't do right
by the poor self-sacrificing woman who had risked her life to save theirs.
No fool he, Billy Brown seized the moment to pass the hat containing the marbles and every man in the
single group glared at the married group, then did his duty and withdrew a colored glass ball. One after another they examined their marble, then headed for the beer barrel with a grin of relief.
Except Max McCord.
McCord stood as if he'd put down roots, staring at the green glass in his palm. All around him men slapped each other on the back, made jokes, and looked around to see who had drawn the marble with the X.
When Low Down couldn't bear McCord's frozen silence another minute, she turned her back on him and faced down the mountain. She hadn't expected that anyone would jump for joy to discover the scratched
marble in his hand. She wasn't happy either. But she had secretly hoped the man she ended with wouldn't look as shocked and stricken as Max McCord.
She had mixed feelings about him. Part of her felt sympathetic that he wouldn't be able to marry the woman he loved. He had to marry her instead. Events had spiraled so far out of control there was no stopping them now. Preacher Jellison had everyone churned up and eager for a wedding. No one cared that she and McCord didn't want this.
Frowning down the mountainside, she thrust a hand into her trouser pocket and closed her fingers around the copy of Max McCord's letter that she had written out from memory. She didn't know why she'd copied his letter. Well, yes she did. She liked to read it and pretend that someone had sent this letter to her. McCord had some beautiful words inside of him.
"Gather around, and somebody bring the bride and groom up front."
"We have to do it right this minute?" Low Down would have at least liked to wash her face and comb her hair. But the men cared only about repaying their debt right now in case God was watching and prepared for swift retribution if they faltered, and in case McCord might be tempted to shirk his duty if they permitted any delay.
McCord continued to stare at the marble like it was a miniature crystal ball revealing a future that sucked the marrow from his bones.
Coot Patterson and Stony Marks each took one of McCord's arms and dragged him forward. Frank Oliviti and Jake Martin led Low Down through the crowd. She felt as if she ought to say something to McCord, but
she didn't know what. He looked dazed anyway, and probably wouldn't have heard anything she said.
She felt a little dazed herself and suddenly nervous. She wet her lips and rubbed her palms along her trouser legs. Damn, she wished she'd washed this morning and had put on some clean long johns and a better shirt. She wished things hadn't gone this far. She was going to regret the husband part, she just knew it.
"Wait a minute." Billy Brown pushed to the front, twisting a gold ring off his little finger. He thrust it into McCord's hand. "This belonged to my mother. It's for the bride," he added when McCord frowned like he didn't understand why he was looking down at a gold ring.
"Take off your hats and quit talking." Billy gave the men a hard stare and followed with a hint. "McCord's doing the hard part, carrying the major thrust of our gratitude, so to speak. But the rest of us ought to do something. Like chip in to help the happy couple set
up housekeeping. Keep in mind what we all owe Low Down. And we also owe McCord for taking this like a man. Remember that it could have been you saying the 'I do's,' so give generously."
Preacher Jellison waited for the muffled guffaws to ebb, then he smiled at Low Down as if this whole
wedding had been her idea instead of his, as if she and McCord were indeed a happy couple who sought his blessing on a joyful event. She seriously considered punching him in the stomach, but he began the ceremony before she'd made up her mind about doing it.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together in the presence of these witnesses ..."
It didn't take long to bind a man and woman together for the rest of their lives. In less than five minutes Preacher Jellison smiled and said, "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Low Down and Max McCord reluctantly turned and stared hard at each other. Then McCord spun on his heels, walked through the crowd of men and continued on down the mountainside.
Low Down pushed her fists into her pockets and watched him stride away. She didn't really care if he kept going, jumped on his horse, and rode out of here. Getting married was a mistake that neither of them had asked for.
Fingering the letter in her pocket, she watched until McCord reached his diggings and ducked inside his tent, dropping the flap behind him.
She should have settled for the bag of gold or the stupid piano.
Thrusting out her hand, she squinted at the ring, bright and shiny against her sun-dark skin. Well, whatever happened, she'd keep the ring. They'd convinced her that she deserved something for emptying all those vomit buckets.
But she'd really wanted a baby, someone to love who would love her back. A real family of her very own. Like an idiot, she'd let herself get her hopes up.
"Olaf? Isn't it time to break out the whiskey? The bride needs a stiff drink. And I want to hear more about that generous chipping-in part."
No sense crying over spilled milk. She might as well have a few drinks, hear a few prospecting stories, and enjoy what was left of her wedding day.

Editorial Reviews

“Steven Womack has done for male private eye fiction what Grafton and Paretsky did for women operatives in the Eighties, and if you haven’t heard of him yet, you will.”

--Mostly Murder

From the Publisher

In his sixth adventure, Nashville PI Harry Denton departs the country-music scene for the casinos of Reno, Nev., where his ex-girlfriend, forensic pathologist Dr. Marsha Helms, is about to give birth to their child. On his way to see Marsha, Harry is mugged by two thugs and winds up in the hospital under the care and flirtation of nurse Kelly Graham, but it's not long before he's with Marsha in Reno, where Federal Agent Shaky Jake Shalinsky persuades him to go undercover at a brothel as part of a money-laundering investigation. The feds already own the brothel, Mustang Ranch, and have secured an inside operative--a dominatrix named Raven--who holds a CD filled with evidence. In his role as the house's handyman, Harry visits Raven en chambre. An hour later, Raven is found murdered, and Harry is the prime suspect. To prove his innocence, Harry must find the real murderer, all while trying to resolve his romantic and paternal entanglements. Though Womack's (Murder Manuel, etc.) prose often has a nice lilt ("As I drove out I-80 east into the black hole of the night desert, the lights of Reno burned behind me so brightly, I had to skew the rearview mirror"), the far-fetched plot and Harry's awkward interactions with women never quite convince. (Feb.) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.

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