By Steve Martini
Steve Martini has written a perfectly crafted and smart court docket mystery. We certainly have a brand new literary lion within the fictional crime genre.
—Vincent Bugliosi "In the culture of serious court docket dramas, Steve Martini's Compelling Evidence is a taut, stressful story that I easily couldn't placed down."
—Dominick Dunne "Sets a typical for suspenseful, clever court docket drama that might be not easy to equivalent. It's by means of some distance the easiest of the style I've ever visible . . . totally thrilling."
—Clifford Irving "Terrific and fascinating criminal drama . . . completely interesting. It's great!"
—Melvin Belli "Superb . . . actually on a degree with Presumed Innocent."
—F. Lee Bailey
Read Online or Download Compelling Evidence (Paul Madriani, Book 1) PDF
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Additional resources for Compelling Evidence (Paul Madriani, Book 1)
Back at the apartment, Ben was facedown on the floor, his hands behind his back, his nose pressed against the cherry wood. His eyes were wide, his breaths hot and heavy. Sophie was astride his legs, binding his wrists with silver duct tape, tight and strong, her tears falling onto his back, hot and wet. There was a gun pressed hard into the back of her neck, the other one aimed at the back of Ben’s head. Once she’d finished his bindings, Sophie looked round. She saw the muzzle of the gun and shrank back.
She saw the muzzle of the gun and shrank back. ’ wailed Sophie, tears streaming down her face. She was scared, the sounds coming in fast, her instincts running faster. The gun was pressed harder into Ben’s neck. ’ he yelled, his voice quivering. Sophie dropped her head, the tears now a stream. The buyer put the other gun softly under Sophie’s chin and lifted it, her streaked face coming back into view. Sophie opened her eyes slowly, the sparkle gone. ’ It was said calmly, almost gently. Sophie nodded, understanding, and she felt leaden inside.
I remembered something the mother had said. It was a good starting quote. I began to type. ’ It was high-school prose, but it was a start. As I tapped away, the words began to tumble out, and by the time Laura arrived I had written a first draft. I was the only person who looked up when Laura came in. I saw her look around. The smoking ban had taken away some of the atmosphere, but the flock wallpaper and etched windows kept it dark inside. It drew in the tourists, sold the spirit of the blitz back to German students, who didn’t realise that it used to be a disco bar before a renovation turned the clock back.