My name is Tiff Banks and I see the violently slain. They whisper to me, and they never, ever, forget the face of their killer.
This latest case could well drive me crazy. Our Dark Cousin clients are looking for a Latino gangsta, but they’re not exactly informative, and I know they’re not telling me everything. Neither is my partner, ex-detective Royal Mortensen. What are Dark Cousins? Royal knows, but won’t, or can’t, tell me.
A nineteenth-century journal turns up in my mailbox. Who sent it to me, and why?
When the case turns ugly, so does my relationship with the one man I’ve come to trust. I need answers, so it’s back to what I do best; pound the pavement and talk to dead people.
Can my spectral informers help me this time?