The Savannah Madam by Tom Turner (The Savannah Series Book 1)
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.8 MB
The beautiful Farrell sisters are an unlikely duo of gumshoes.
Tired of following cheating husbands to no-tell motels, the two catch a case which could either make their bones or get them killed. Maybe both.
To crack it, the sisters must dive deep into a murky demimonde of crooked cops, low-rent thugs and high-class brothels.
In the middle of it all, Jackie falls for hunky homicide cop, Harry Bull. Harry is from an old Savannah family but… might just have a skeleton or two rattling around in his closet.
Diana Milton, reporter for the Savannah Morning News, was writing a feature series on women who worked in unusual—read: male-dominated—professions.
She had just asked private investigator, Jackie Farrell, about the Philomena Soames murder case up in New York. Diana had read about it on the Savannah Investigations website, and it was the reason why she had contacted Jackie in the first place.
Jackie, whose full name was Jacqueline Gardiner Farrell, was the founding partner of Savannah Investigations. At five-foot-three, Jackie joked about her parentage, since her father was six-three and her mother five-ten. She was a blonde with striking blue eyes, a dazzling smile, and a gym-trim body. Her clothes tended to run somewhat on the conservative side, but watch out: every once in a while, she’d surprise you with a slit skirt eight inches above the knee and a plunging neckline.
“Savannah Investigations principal, Jackie Farrell,” read the firm’s website, “was instrumental in cracking the New York murder case of actress Philomena Soames.” Immediately below the headline, the site announced: “We specialize in domestic surveillance cases, missing persons, and undercover operations.”
The backstory on the Soames murder was that Jackie, twenty-nine at the time, worked for the New York branch of a Hollywood film production company called Montana Films but got such a pathetically anemic paycheck from them that she had taken on a part time job. (A “side-hustle,” the Millennials called it.) Through a low-level showbiz contact, Jackie got hooked up with the British actress, Philomena Soames, who had worked in a few indie films that had done well at Sundance but not at the box office. Philomena also fancied herself a writer and figured she just might have the great English novel in her, but had stalled out halfway through chapter five. So, she put the word out that she needed a “creative muse.”
A few years before, Jackie had written a screenplay that seemed terminally stalled in development and before that, while an undergrad at University of North Carolina, had won the Scribner Award for “Best Young Novelist”—even though, technically speaking, it was a novella. So, Jackie applied for the job with Philomena Soames, got it, and the two soon became fast friends.
“So, give me all the details,” Diana Milton asked Jackie. “The Soames murder, I mean.”
“Well,” Jackie said, taking a sip of her coffee. “The murder took place five and a half years ago. I don’t know if you remember the story or read about it, but Philomena lived down in Tribeca,” Jackie said, explaining that she went to Philomena’s apartment three times a week to work on her novel with her, “and she was stabbed twenty-seven times there.”