Delilah Archer's back!
And, this time, she's up to her stilettos in naughtiness.
A sex tape, matchbook and blackmail lead this private detective on a mission to find Florida tycoon, Quinton Mathis’ missing wife.
Search for Olive Mathis takes Delilah on more twists than a Twizzler.
Olive’s in a pickle. And, its Delilah Archer's job to get her out of the bitter end of exposure's pool.
Swirl in a voyeur and a pair of moonshiners into this caustic cocktail; shake it up with a few curve balls along the way, and you've got a spicy new Delilah Archer Mystery.
Author A.H. Scott takes you from the cozy offices of Nashville's Archer Agency, through a strip club outside of Atlanta and deep into the mud of the Georgia swamp.
This is: “A Delilah Archer Mystery: The Case of The Curvaceous Cutie”.
Delilah Archer is a woman who isn't above getting her hands dirty when it comes to bringing a satisfactory conclusion for any client that passes through the silver doors of the Archer Agency.
For those who misjudge her, Delilah Archer always gets them in the end......
The Poole brothers lived off the grid and in a lane of illicit activities, as her eyes glimpsed those varied trappings of a still and scent of chemicals to manufacture meth.
Modified muffler used to create the moonshine still for cooking up the liquor had several flimsy white and beige canvas sheets partially covering it. Six large oil barrels were situated directly in front of the still.
Various lengths, diameters and coils of clear tubing for piping were also scattered about this area.
Delilah’s eyes got off easy in absorbing the atmosphere as her nose received the true pummeling of a powerful stench.
Acrid aroma of piss, oil, fermented fruit, alcohol, turpentine, hops and several other indistinguishable odors filled the area.
She could see they’d sampled their own wares, as each man leaned against the rickety fence outside of the cabin.
Archer saw this pair dressed in grungy overalls with hands filthy with grease and turpentine, knowing this case would be getting dirtier by the second.
Taking another step forward and a deep breath of courage in entering the domain of moonshiners and meth-heads, private detective Delilah Archer knew she was walking a tight-rope above a muddy alligator pit.
Hopefully, a smile would get on the gators’ good side.
Deke Poole, 31, had scruffy stubble, as if he’d been allergic to a razor. As for Zeke; this younger brother by two years, had bushy eyebrows which almost connected in the center of his forehead.
“Who are you?” Deke snorted the air and scratched his shoulder.
Delilah smiled, “I’m a friend of Olive’s. I heard that she’s here”.
Zeke shrugged, “We’re Olive’s friends. And, we know she didn’t give that info to anybody” Pressing his right elbow onto that fence, it creaked with this man’s weight, “So, tell us who the fuck you are”.
Almost stuck in place, Delilah wasn’t going to turn back or flinch, “Her husband hired me to find her and bring her back home”.
“Home?” Deke chuckled with a pig’s snorting sound, “Shit!” Laughing, “This place was her home, when home wasn’t some fancy digs in Florida”.
Zeke’s neck cracked, as he stretched, “What makes you think we’re gonna help you, huh?”
Delilah continued, “Her husband is worried about her” Small puffs of smoke were coming out of that smokestack, as if the chimney was notifying Archer of someone being inside that cabin for her to bring out, “I need to talk with Olive”.
Fingers on Deke’s left hand began to rub along his chin, as he looked this woman up and down with a smirk, “You come into our neck of the woods, lady” Signs of intoxication caused several seconds of sniffling, “And, think there would be no repercussions”.
For baby brother, Zeke, his coarse way came directly to the surface, “But, there is a price for stickin’ your nose where it shouldn’t be” Giving Archer a once over with lusty eyes.
Delilah wasn’t looking for a verbal jousting with these two nitwits, “Listen, fellas, I don’t want no trouble” Shrugging shoulders slightly, she placed hands upward, “I just came to bring the old man’s wife back”.
“Well, that and an army might get you somewhere, sugar” Zeke snickered in a way of dismissing whatever she had to say.
As for Deke, he folded his arms in a defensive mode, “But for now, you’ll have to go through us to get to her”.
Delilah Archer was determined to get inside of that cabin to talk to Olive Mathis, as this Baltimore native walked a few steps closer to the front door, “Move out of my way”.
The Poole brothers may not have been the sharpest tools in the box, but knew how to think in unison and replied in a similar way, “You make us, bitch!”
Five letter word which so callously came roaring from their lips remained one which ticked off Delilah Archer to the core.
Delilah hated the word ‘bitch’. And, these two dimwits were going to be recipients of the machinations of retribution she would have to blast through to finish completion of her assignment in bringing home Olive Mathis.
Holding head downward, she whispered in a low growl to herself, “Fuckers, always call me that” Raising up her head, Delilah gave a snicker to them.
The game was afoot and Archer’s upper hand was hidden in submission.
Falling to her knees, she crawled slowly over to this pair in dirty brown jumpsuits……
