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Murder Is But A Memory


As we rode toward Desert Canyon Road we caught up with each other on a personal level. Then the conversation turned back to my case.

"I have a hunch this has something to do with Vegas," I said, remembering where the bowling ball bag was sold from.

Harrigan tugged at the wheel as we turned up the winding road where Kerri had her accident.

"What gives you that hunch?" he asked suspiciously.

I shook my head, "Privileged information."

Harrigan got very business-like. "I hope it's not the kind of privileged information that will land your keister in the slammer."

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