The Substitution Order by Martin Clark


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The Substitution

The Substitution Order by Martin Clark
English | 2019 | Mystery/Thriller | ePUB | 1.6 Mb

The Substitution : Kevin Moore, once a high-flying Virginia attorney, hits rock bottom after an inexplicably tumultuous summer leaves him disbarred and separated from his wife. Short on cash and looking for work, he lands in the middle of nowhere with a job at SUBstitution, the world’s saddest sandwich shop. His closest confidants: a rambunctious rescue puppy and the twenty-year-old computer-whiz manning the restaurant counter beside him. He’s determined to set his life right again, but the troubles keep coming. And when a bizarre, mysterious stranger wanders into the shop armed with a threatening “invitation” to join a multi-million-dollar scam, Kevin will need every bit of his legal savvy just to stay out of prison.

“The door alert tones, a two-beat, electronic ding and dong, and I check to see who’s there. A stranger is standing on the frayed entrance mat, a chubby fellow with nicely groomed, chemically white hair. Albino Platinum Ice would have to be the color on the Clairol box. He’s wearing a lumpy black suit and a dull necktie. There’s a red carnation pinned to his lapel, so I wonder if he’s been to a funeral. He scans the restaurant, looks at every booth, then settles on me. He smiles. I lay my hand on the .38 under the counter, the pistol right below the cash register.

“Morning,” he says cheerfully. He dips his head slightly, ratchets the smile tighter so it’s all lips and no teeth.

“Good morning,” I reply. “Welcome to SUBstitution.”

“You’re Mr. Kevin Moore?” he asks, still chipper.

“Yep. I am.”

“Any chance I could have a minute or two with you?”

“No offense, sir, but whatever you’re selling, I’m in no position to buy it.” I say this nicely, with no barb. I appreciate that the guy’s just doing his job. I don’t want to waste his time.

“Understood. No worries. I’m not a salesman.”

“Oh, okay.” I’ve finished scraping mayo off the steak-and-cheese and close the roll. “You from probation?” I ask. I’m tending to the sandwich, my eyes lowered.”

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