# Frisky Business - the next Sasha Jackson Mystery



## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

In October 3013, I will be releasing *FRISKY BUSINESS*, the fourth misadventure for P.I. Sasha Jackson.

_Here's the synopsis:_

Two months ago, Kitty Vixen, a porn star with a history of drug abuse, was found beaten to death near a Toronto construction site. No one knows why she was killed, but since she was a worthless nobody, the cops aren't making her case a priority.

However, Kitty's roommate and former co-star Raven Greywolf wants answers, and hires Private Investigator Sasha Jackson to find out just how dirty the adult film industry really is.

As Sasha traipses through the back alleys in the world of adult entertainment, she realizes that a disposable human being can be quite valuable after all, and that both dreams and ambition are priceless. 

The one sentence description for my character is as follows:

P.I. Sasha Jackson: She's a beautiful mess, but you should see the other guy...

In the review of the 2nd Sasha Jackson Mystery (_*Dead Light District*_) *Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine* said:

_*"Sasha Jackson is the true literary granddaughter of Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe." *_

It's been almost two years (!!!) since my last Sasha book came out, so you can only imagine how happy I'll be to have Sasha back in action!


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## Betsy the Quilter (Oct 27, 2008)

Edmjill--

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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

_So, where did I get the idea for Frisky Business?

Here's a brief explanation (this note is in the front of the book):_

*Author's Note*

Frisky Business was inspired by chapter two of Empire of Illusion by Chris Hedges. Chapter two is titled the Illusion of Love, and I don't think I've ever read anything that has made me as angry as this did. In it, author Hedges dives into the behind-the-scenes degradation and exploitation that form the backbone of the adult entertainment industry of today. It's an eye-opening, jaw-dropping, gut-wrenching piece that invites readers to re-examine whether or not there's anything wrong with 'just looking' at dirty pictures. It made me mad enough to kill. Well, only fictionally...


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

*Here's a little excerpt from Frisky Business*

***

*
Saturday November 12, 1:35 pm*
"Sorry I look like crap. I was just at the gym."
The striking, copper-skinned, raven-haired girl of about twenty didn't exactly look like crap, but she did look like gilded trash. She had high cheekbones, too much black eyeliner, and rings on almost every finger. Her boobs strained the fabric of her tiny silver and black striped T-shirt. The stripes were horizontal, and she didn't need any optical illusions to emphasize her physical endowments. "Candace Curtis gave me your number, said you could help me."
Candace Curtis is a former madame I met during the Hooker in Hiding case this past summer. She had suffered some collateral damage as the case morphed from missing person to murder. 
I had mixed feelings about, and very little understanding of, the sex industry when I first met her, but Candace and I had developed a friendship since then, and she has opened my eyes to the realities of the sex trade and the people who work in it. As well, I had helped Candace reconnect with the son she had abandoned years ago. She felt indebted to me for that, but in my opinion she shouldn't have. At the risk of sounding trite, the smile on her face when she and the boy were reunited was reward enough. Nonetheless, I happily cashed her irresponsibly generous cheque when it came in the mail. 
"Grab a seat," I said to the girl, indicating the empty chair opposite my desk.
I glanced around my rather plain but functional office, with its bare walls and Ikea furniture, and wondered what impression it gave to the occasional clients who come in. According to their ads, Ikea is "Swedish for common sense." I wonder how you say "I'm a kick-ass sleuth" in Swedish? 
"My name is Raven Greywolf." She extended her hand, and I shook it. Her First Nations sounding name matched her physical appearance.
"What's the issue?" I asked.
"My best friend was murdered a couple months ago."
"Give me some details."
As soon as she started talking, it occurred to me that I should have said something sympathetic about her loss. Occasionally, I'm an insensitive twit. Note to self: Change that.
"Kitty Vixen. Her real name was Julie McPhee. She was beaten to death, and found in a construction site, in Regent Park, where they're building a new condominium."
"One of many," I said.
"Yeah, the neighbourhood's changing a lot."
That was an understatement. For many years, Regent Park was one of Toronto's seediest downtown neighbourhoods, rife with crime, drugs, violence and desperation. Remarkably short-sighted urban planning after the war had given rise to a cluster of social housing units and not much else. No public areas had been factored in, no recreational places, or commercial spaces - the neighbourhood didn't even have a grocery store - thus making it a foolproof recipe for a ghetto.
Just a few years ago, in one of those rare instances where they got it right the first time, City Hall had decided to gut it all and start from scratch. The project was still several years from completion, but already the area was improving. The new social housing units were interspersed among stylish modern condominiums and shops, plus there was a park, a public pool and a cultural centre. Amidst all of this, there were still several lots covered with bulldozers and cranes. The wheels of progress grind along at their own leisurely pace, but the early indicators showed that it was worth the wait.
"Tell me more about your friend."
"The police say Kitty died on Friday September ninth, late at night, so it could have technically been Saturday morning. Her body wasn't found until Monday morning when the construction crew showed up."
"What would she have been doing near a construction site?" I asked.
"It's a shortcut from the film studio where we both worked to our place. Me and Kitty shared an apartment above a store on Gerrard Street, near Sackville. I still live there, my new roommate's Athena."
"I remember reading about the murder in the newspaper. The case remains unsolved." 
"I guess technically that's true, since no one's been charged, but I know who killed her," Raven said.
"And that was...?"
"Somebody who has something to do with AAA-XXX films, one of the bosses there, I think. Kitty was an actress for them, and I used to be. I'm self employed now."
"New line of work?" I asked.
Raven chewed on her fingernails for a minute before answering. "Not really. I'm a private escort. Candace referred some of her old clientele to me." 
Not my place to judge, so I didn't comment on her rather lateral move. At least, if the clients came from Candace, I knew they were probably a little less dirt-baggy than any old Joe off the street. "Tell me more about the movie guys."
"Everyone calls it Triple-A Triple-X. Antonio Agostino Antonelli is the president. His partner Frankie Lolatto is Chief Executive Asshole," she said.
"I know a lot of people with that job title. Keep going."
"I think Kitty was causing too much trouble. Neither of us liked working there, but the money was good, just not good enough. Kitty was trying to get the guys to pay us more, treat us better, maybe give us benefits."
Paid holidays and a pension plan for adult film stars? Actually, that's not a bad idea.
"I assume they didn't want to?" I asked.
"Hell no."
"What's the going pay rate for a porn star these days?"
"A thousand bucks a day," she said.
"That's kind of a lot of money in a way, but then again, not really."
Through my work for Candace, I've learned a lot about money and sex. I also know how much I earn in private investigation fees - it's either feast or famine in my world.
Some of the high-ranking call-girls who had plied their trade at Candace's cathouse could earn up to a thousand dollars or even more for a night's work. So could a couple of the strippers I've met. But those are the exceptions. For every upscale escort, there are dozens of desperately unfortunate girls working the street, earning as little as twenty bucks per transaction. In any case, in those scenarios, unlike in the dirty picture biz, there is nothing, um, residual in their workday. When the guy leaves, or the lap dance ends, the interaction more or less ceases to exist... Except in memory and emotional scarring.
I couldn't imagine thousands of people watching a video of me having sex. Or people watching it over and over again... and masturbating to it. I shuddered at the thought. I wondered how and why the girl before me had entered the x-rated movie business, but it wasn't appropriate to ask. Yet.
"Do you get royalties from the movies or anything?"
"Are you kidding?"
"So, a grand for a day's work. How many days a week did you work?"
"That depended on the studio. Most flicks take about two days to film, maybe three. I usually did two or three films a month. Kitty did about the same."
If she only worked about four to nine days a month, I wondered what she did with the rest of her time?
"So you made between four and nine thousand dollars a month? Not bad. I know a lot of people - families even - who live on much less than that. Not that I'm saying it's good&#8230;" 
I wondered how much I'd have to be offered to make a porno flick? It would have to be a one followed by a lot of zeroes.
"I'm saving every penny I can for school," she said. Now she started to bite the nails on her right hand.
"But if you were making upwards of four thousand bucks a month...?"
"I pay rent, and other bills, food... It costs a lot to look like this." She gave me a self-conscious smile. "And school's going to cost an arm and a leg. Next fall I'm planning to go to Parsons."
"The design school in New York?" I asked.
"That's the one. I really, really want to study fashion, and Parsons is the best in the world."
"So I've heard. That'll be very expensive."
"That's why I did the movies, and why I'm doing escort jobs now. I'd never make this kind of money working at McDonald's or The GAP." 
I had to agree with her point about the pathetically low wages in retail and service jobs. I remember earning next to nothing at part time jobs when I was in my teens. I worked at an ice cream parlour during the summer I was fifteen. I was paid just five-fifty an hour, plus a free cone on my break. The biggest problem I had working there was which flavour to have on my break. That, plus an oily manager who kept hitting on me, until one day when I finally kneed him in the nuts, and walked out.
Raven continued, "Tuition's well over twenty-thousand, and don't even ask what it will cost to live in Manhattan."
"I see. All right, so, Kitty wanted to get paid more, and you were all in favour of that," I said.
"Why wouldn't I be? But you see, adult film pay is standard for the industry, at least in Canada."
"So just how much more did Kitty want to be paid?"
"She never said exactly. Well, it's not like she wanted a fixed amount. You see, we get paid a daily rate, no matter how many guys do us. If you think about it compared to the way a call girl does things, it's not fair. I'm working as an escort now, and I get paid for each guy I have sex with, but in film work, 'cuz it's a flat rate, you get the same pay whether it's one guy or lots."
I didn't like what I was hearing. 
"If I investigate this, I have to keep an open mind." Which could prove hard for me to do, given my feelings about women being exploited. "There could be other motives, besides money. Secrets. Other suspects. What about ex-boyfriends, enemies, jealous lovers? What about drugs?" I asked, looking Raven square in the eye. 
"We both liked to smoke a little green after a day of filming. It's the only way to forget about work, but nothing major."
I admit there are days when clients and contacts and witnesses can practically drive me to drink, but I don't have to get into an altered state to do my job. That's probably a good thing: I'm dangerous enough - to myself and others - when I'm stone cold sober.
"Honest?"
"Before I met her, Kitty did just about every drug she could get her hands on; she was totally hardcore for a couple years. But she steered clear of chemicals ever since I knew her; said it would be too easy to fall back down the rabbit hole."
"And you?"
"Like I said, we'd both have a few tokes, and Kitty sure liked her rum and Cokes. But I steer clear of booze; it hasn't been kind to my people."
"That's one way to put it."
"Besides, I'd rather save my money for Parsons," she said, with the smooth degree of confidence usually associated with a fait accompli.
"Right. So, what about Kitty's friends and lovers? Exes? Enemies?"
"She was going out with a guy named Corey for a coupla months, but they broke up near the end of the summer."
"Where can I find him?""
"He sells bikes at Thunder Motorcycles."
"Anyone else?" I asked.
"Before that, there was a guy named Sam that she dated for a little while, back in the winter."
"What happened with him?"
"He was pretty heavy into drugs, and like I said, Kitty..."
"Okay, so that didn't work out."
"Having a boyfriend wasn't really a priority for her anyways. She couldn't be bothered, really. Kitty said that after making movies all the time, she'd had enough of sex."
What a shame that something so beautiful and fun under the right conditions had morphed into something so unpleasant in Kitty's world. 
"Hmm. What about male co-stars?"
"Kitty made a lot of movies with Dixon and Clint. Movies starring her and Clint were especially popular." 
"Hmm... What about her family?" I asked.
Raven was back to biting the fingernails of her left hand. "She had virtually nothing to do with her parents, and didn't have any brothers or sisters as far as I knew."
The lack of a familial support system and the estrangement from her parents offered a sliver of an explanation of the how's and why's of Kitty's career path. Even though I'd never met her, and even though Raven and I had only beet talking for a while, I had already begun to get a sense of Kitty's tragic life.
"What about friends and enemies?"
"Let's see... I met Kitty about a year and a half ago, when she started at Triple A. We became good friends almost immediately, and roommates not long after that."
"How did that come about?" I asked.
"I was renting a big two bedroom apartment by myself, and decided it would help me save money for school if I rented out the other bedroom. I used to use it as a sewing room."
"That makes sense. Okay, so you and Kitty were friends and roomies and co-workers, but who else was in her life?"
"No one, really, other than a couple of the girls we worked with, like Crystal and Trinity, but they don't work there anymore either. The three of us quit at roughly the same time, around the end of September, not long after Kitty was killed."
"Where's everyone now?" I asked.
"Trinity works the escort business like I do, but she wants to get out of sex work; says she wants to write a book about working in the x-rated film biz. Crystal is stripping at a bar out near the airport. Crystal's been a little off the rails lately, so I'm not sure how much help she'll be." 
"What do you mean?"
"Slipping back into her old habits, drinking a lot. And I mean a lot."
"I see. Hmm. I should have asked you this earlier, but what about the police?" I asked.
"They've gotten nowhere, and I don't even think they're trying anyways. To them, she's basically just a dead fuck toy. But Kitty was the best friend I've ever had."
"No one's just a dead fuck toy. Or at least, no one should be," I said. 
As much as it pisses me off, the reality is that some murders get more attention than others when it comes to police budgets and public outrage. A porno star with a history of drug use would not be a high priority.
"That's why I came to you."
I smiled at her. "Hmm. So, why was Kitty your best friend?"
"Kitty was just cool, you know? You could say anything to her and you'd know that she'd get it. She was really sussed out, you know, really smart, and I dunno... just nice. A decent person." I nodded but didn't say anything. She bit her nail and continued, "A lot of the people in this biz are messed up, strung out, and most of them only look out for themselves. Kitty wasn't like that." 
"Uh huh..."
"I had pneumonia last winter. Ended up missing a lot of work, and since I didn't do the flicks, I didn't get paid. Kitty covered my half of the rent that month, and wouldn't let me pay her back. Said it was bullshit that we didn't have sick leave. And plus you know, she did all those kinds of things you do when someone's sick, like bringing me soup and going to the drug store to get Neo Citron and stuff for me. Sat up with me all night when I had a fever."
"Sounds like she was a good person."
"Good, yeah, and she could be wickedly funny too."
"Okay. I'll give this a try." I said.
"What are your rates?" she asked.
"Depends on the case, but for something like this, it's usually five hundred a day."
"I've got two thousand bucks on me now. Can you start with that, and I'll give you more next week?" She handed me a wad of twenties, fifties, and a few hundred-dollar bills.
"Deal." I tucked the money into the front pocket of my jeans. Nice bulge.
"The money isn't just from me. Crystal and Trinity kicked in five hundred each."
"I'd like to talk to them," I said.
"Sure." She wrote down their numbers for me.
"Since it's the weekend, I won't be able to get started on this until Monday, okay?"
Actually, the world of detection operates twenty-four-seven, so I could theoretically dig in anytime. However, there were big plans on the horizon for this evening: I had a hot date planned and a gig lined up.
"No worries. Kitty's been dead two months already. She's not going to get any deader."


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

*Here's another bite of the excerpt...*

*Saturday, 6:22 pm*
"I think I'm developing a taste for ume fruit," I said to Derek, the very sexy lawyer I've been dating since August. We were at Izakaya, one of the best sushi restaurants in Toronto. Derek had ordered a small carafe of Umeshu, a Japanese wine made with Asian plums. "And it's a nice change from sake." 
"It's a little sweet for me," he said, "but it goes nicely with this." We were sharing a plate of tempura veggies and munching on edamame. "So tell me about your new client." 
"God knows what's going to crawl out from under the rocks this time. A former porn star has hired me to investigate the death of her former roommate and fellow porn star." 
I gave him a thumbnail sketch of the case. 
"I vaguely remember reading about it in the paper. Was in September, wasn't it?" he asked.
"Yes. Almost exactly two months ago."
"That's going to be tough. You know what they say about the first forty-eight hours."
"Yes, but that doesn't discourage me. The poor girl died of a particularly nasty beating. Just think about that: Someone, probably a guy given the manner of death, used his hands - only his hands! - to end her life. No gun, no knife, no nothing. Just beat the life right out of her with his fists. It says a lot about the killer's rage."
"It also says a lot about what kind of case this is, so please be careful. Something like this could get really ugly," he said.
"It already is, I mean besides in the obvious way. The porn industry is a nasty world," I said.
"I know. I worked on a trial several years ago, just after I had finished articling, that touched on the adult entertainment industry, and it was horrible. Just about made me want to change careers. What got to me most was learning about the ways the movie guys lure in the girls who make the movies."
"Uh huh..." I took a bite of the spicy tuna roll, made spicier by a big dot of wasabi on top. I swear that's the real reason I eat sushi. I love wasabi so hot that it clears your sinuses.
"It's basically the same tactic as a pimp uses, or even a dealer. Get them hooked, and reel them in. In prostitution, the pimp makes the girl feel special, tells her he loves her and plays upon her guilt if she says no. In adult movies, they manipulate them basically the same way, except they'll make the girl feel like she's a star, tell her she'll be famous and have tons of fans. It's pretty awful." He reached over for a maki roll and piled some pickled ginger shavings on it. 
"Yup," I said. "What disgusts me most is that these guys zero in on girls who are already weak or victimized, you know, like runaways and addicts, or girls from abusive relationships."
"They exploit the vulnerable." 
Neither of us said anything for a few minutes, until the waiter came by to clear our plates.
"May I show you the dessert menu?" he asked.
"Not for me," I said, and Derek shook his head too. I checked the time. "Actually, I'd love a green tea, and then I've got to run. We're setting up at eight-thirty."
"So, are you ready for tonight? Do you get excited or nervous before a gig?"
"Excited. Being on stage gives me a rush. I don't think I've ever felt nervous when it comes to music and singing."
Two or three times a year, my band-mates from The Calamity Chain and I get together to play a one-off gig at a Toronto bar or maybe a wedding. 
The Calamity Chain was slated to play The Horseshoe Tavern at ten tonight. The Horseshoe, one of my favourite bars on Queen Street West, opened about sixty years ago as a country and rockabilly bar, but it's changed with the times. Over the years, it's offered everything from ska to punk to alt rock. As a musician, it's always fun to play there, and as a customer, I know that I can drop by there anytime to hear some good music. I was really pumped for tonight since we hadn't played a gig since Mick's high school reunion a couple of months ago.
"A few of my buddies are going to meet me there later on," Derek said. "They think it's cool that my girlfriend's a rocker chick."
My girlfriend?

Saturday 11:04 pm
The first set went off without a hitch, other than a broken guitar string during the fourth song. For the first half of the show, we always play cover tunes, mostly rock from the Sixties, Seventies and Eighties - just about anything teenaged guys put on when they're playing air guitar.
The set opened up with Gimme Shelter, and from there we never looked back. I camped it up next with Pat Benetar's Hit me with Your Best Shot, and then stretched my vocal chords with a Van Halen tune, followed by some Blondie, Bon Jovi and finished the first half with Aerosmith.
The bar was full and we played to the crowd. Whenever I perform, I always find that I draw my energy from the audience, and tonight they were giving it. Or maybe just a lot of them were drunk. I noticed Derek and his friends off to the side and smiled at them. I knew that during the break, he'd want to introduce me to his pals and I felt a bit awkward about it. It had been a long time since anyone had called me their girlfriend. 
"That was fantastic!" his friend Paul said when I joined them between sets. "I haven't heard some of those songs in years."
"Thanks."
"You sound really great," said his friend in the brown shirt whose name I didn't catch. "Derek told me he was dating a singer, but I didn't expect that you'd be doing hard rock." 
"Thanks guys. Listen, sorry to rush off, but there are a couple of other friends I have to say hi to."
"Sure, go do your thing. We'll have time later." Derek gave me a quick kiss and I wandered over to chat with a couple of neighbours who come to see me every time I play. 
For the second set, we did all our own stuff. Most of our original songs come from Mick, who has both a knack for lyrics and a knack for coming up with good rhythms and catchy melodies, unlike me. 
The good thing about doing our originals is that Mick does some of the vocals, and the good thing about that is that it gives me a chance to sit in on the drums for a few songs. I know there are people out there, much more talented than I am, who can drum and sing at the same time, but that just doesn't work for me. At least not in public. I find I can only really give my all to one of those things at a time, and singing is what I'm better at. Still though, pounding away on the drums gives me a rush like nothing else does.
By the end of the second set, all four of us were exhausted but pumped. We knocked it out of the park for the encore, with Mick and me doing a duet to the Phish and Les Claypool bluegrass version of Gin and Juice. It's a totally misogynistic pothead song, but everybody always sings along with it, and I get a kick out of doing something with such twang. 
"Terrific show!" Mick said, high-fiving me, Brad and Cole after the show. "What a blast!"
"Yup, we done real good," Cole said with a wink. And we had. 
"You guys want me to help load up?" I asked. I knew they'd say no, since I don't have any equipment except my mic, but I offer to give a hand every time. 
"Nah, we're good. Go ahead and take off, Derek's waiting for you."
I sauntered over to the end of the bar where Derek was standing, smiling at me. "You are one talented woman," he said.
"Yeah, well, wait 'til we get back to your place and I show you just how talented."


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

*Sunday November 13, 7:37 am*
Derek's phone has an extremely annoying ringtone. It sounds like a school bell in a tunnel. It's even more annoying when it rouses me from a sound sleep. 
"Mmpth. You have to kill whoever that is," I mumbled, and then put the pillow over my head. We had gone to bed a little after three o'clock, but hadn't actually gone to sleep until a good while after that. 
Derek picked up the phone. "They what?" He listened to the caller for a moment. "Uh huh. Where?" He sat up on the edge of the bed and flipped on the lamp. "How long ago? Hang on, let me find a pen." He shuffled around in the nightstand. "Uh huh." Another pause. "Okay. I'm on my way."
He got out of bed and grabbed his jeans from the floor.
"Hmph... What's going on?" I asked, pulling the comforter up over the pillow, up over my head.
"A client. He's just been arrested."
"Mmghth... Can you call him back and tell him to get arrested after lunch..."
"Sorry, Sasha," he said pulling on a shirt. "I have to get down to the station right away. You can stay here and sleep, if you want, but I'm going to be tied up for a few hours at least."
 I reluctantly pushed the bedding off me and got up. "I may as well go home. There's no point in my being here if you're gone out."

*Sunday 12:02 pm*
"Hiya, handsome," I said as I joined my friend Officer Mark Houghton at a quiet table at a pub in the Beaches, although Mark and several of his neighbours call this area around Queen Street East The Beach. I find it pretentious to use the singular, as if it's the only beach in the world.
We picked this place because it's close to Mark's house, and after a string of fourteen hour shifts, Mark finally had a day off work. If it were me, I'd have spent the free day zip-lining across the Grand Canyon in a pink tutu, but Mark was using the time to paint his kitchen. 
Actually, I was beat from last night, or rather, from the unanticipated early start to my day. Derek had dropped me off at home before going to the cop shop. I had gone straight up to my bedroom and tried to get back to sleep, but I couldn't. So, here I was instead, already diving into my new case.
"The worst thing about renovations is that one job spawns another. I originally just wanted to put down new flooring, but that led to new counters, which led to new cupboards, and now I have to paint the whole room."
"Will that be the end of it?"
"God, I hope so. I'm tired of tripping over drop-cloths and around step-ladders."
Mark had little splashes of sage green paint in his shaggy brown hair, and on his hands and thick forearms, but he still looked yummy. I visualised him doing home renos without a shirt, and I've got to say, the image was pleasing. Imagine if a bulldozer could walk upright and hold an intelligent conversation: that's Mark. As sexy as I find him now though - and he's no Derek - I could scarcely remember what it had felt like when we slept together once, way back when. It was too long ago, and there might have been a wee bit of rum and Orange Crush involved. Our high school romance had only lasted about five minutes, and had ended soon after the one and only time we'd ever had sex. 
"So how was The Horseshoe last night?" he asked.
"Fabulous! You have to come next time. We don't take it too seriously - obviously we all have day jobs - so when we do play it's just for fun. Kind of campy, a little tongue in cheek; the audience loves it."
"Sounds like something I'd enjoy."
"We did a reggae version of Sweet Emotion at the end of the first set. It felt just like being at a high school dance."
"When everyone would flick their lighter," he said.
"Yeah, except now they just flash their cell phones."
"So, enough beating around the bush. What's going on with you?" he asked with a smile.
"I'm investigating the death of Julie McPhee, better known as Kitty Vixen, an adult film actress," I said.
"I knew it! As soon as I saw your number on call display this morning, I guessed that you're working a murder, and the actress was one of my guesses. Every case you take on seems to have a sex angle."
"Do you believe in coincidences?" I asked.
"Not really."
"Willing to give me a bit of a hand?"
"Sure, but for god sakes, try not to do anything that leads to disciplinary action for me. I caught a lot of heat last time."
Mark had indeed broken a lot of rules for me when I had worked the Bondage and Ballots murder case about a month ago. I had literally and figuratively bared all when I caught the killer. Houghton probably should have been suspended from the police force for helping me. Luckily, the ends justified the means, so the brass pardoned his procedural peccadilloes.
"No problem, Mark. We never had this conversation, and I didn't meet you for lunch today. My treat, by the way."
"If that's a bribe, it's a little on the small side," he said with a wink. He took a sip of his draught beer, and waited for me to continue.
"My client thinks the big guys at Triple A, Triple X killed Kitty. Any comments?" I asked. I took a long swig of my Guinness and waited for Mark's reply.
"If I remember correctly - remember, I handle robberies, not homicides - the money guy is Antonio Agostino Antonelli, hence the name Triple A. He calls himself the president and executive producer. Frankie Lolatto is the director and head screenwriter."
"Highly doubt they have a stable of guys sitting in a conference room pitching storylines and consulting thesauruses," I said.
"Wouldn't the plural be thesauri?" Mark asked.
"You can use either, but the plural of Beach is Beaches."
"Touché. Anyhow, as I recall, they couldn't find a way to pin the death on either Antonio or Frankie. Solid alibis. Apparently both of them were in Los Angeles that weekend, attending XRatedCon."
"Is that what I think it is? Like ComicCon, but with smut?"
"Yup. An annual porno convention. A chance for fans to meet their favourite stars, get their DVDs autographed, pose for pictures..."
"I don't even want to imagine who goes to that." My cheeseburger was getting cold, sitting there while we talked, but I didn't have much of an appetite. I took a small bite, then nibbled on a few greasy French fries. "Drugs would be a logical part of a story like this," I said. 
"Hmm. Could be that it was a drug deal gone wrong, could be that it was a botched up mugging..." Mark spread some more mayo on his club sandwich, then took a big bite. 
"Yeah, but she still had her wallet and purse with her," I said. "According to what I read in the online news stories, she had over two hundred dollars on her."
"Could be that the perps were scared off, could be that someone was around and they bolted. I don't know. Like I said, I'm not part of the investigating team."
"Who's handling the case?"
"Guy named Irwin Buchanan. He's good. Savvy."
"Think he'd talk to me?"
"Not a chance. I said he's good and savvy, which he is, but what I didn't say is that he's also a major prick. It's well known that he has a hate-on for you folks in the private sector. Says you're all vultures, or charlatans, or poseurs, or amateurs, or busybodies, or-"
"Okay, enough. I get the picture."
The waitress came by a few minutes later to clear our plates. "Another round?" she asked, eyeballing our empty glasses.
"Sure, but I'll have a Smithwicks this time," Mark said, and I nodded in agreement. He turned his attention back to me. "A rule of thumb, which you should keep in mind - and it's backed up by statistics - is that in most murders, the victim knew their assailant. There's almost always some relationship between the killer and the deceased, whether it's family, lovers, colleagues, whatever."
"I know. Start with the inner circle."
"Yup, then work your way outwards. And keep an eye on who benefits."


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

YAY! Cool! Today, I was the featured author at e-bookbuilders.com

Here's the link to the interview I did with them: http://www.e-bookbuilders.com/2013/10/jill-edmondson-jilledmondson-stops-featured-author/

Here's an excerpt of the interview:

_Sasha Jackson creator Jill Edmondson, joined me once again E-BB to celebrate Rocktober and answer a few questions - let her know what you think! How would a close friend describe you?_

Loyal, smart, a bit of a dreamer, funny.

_Coffee, soda or juice?_

COFFEE! Instant coffee with tons of cream and sugar. Real cream and real sugar. About 4-6 cups a day.

_Name 3 people - real, alive, deceased or fictional - that you would enjoy having a conversation with._

When I first tried to think of an answer to this, I considered the names of several famous people whom I admire or that I'm a fan of, like Christopher Hitchens, Keith Richards or Chris Hedges. But then I thought that would be a tad boring, maybe (unless of course Keith picked up his axe). What's the point in chatting with someone whose works I already know, whose opinions I already agree with?

_Click the link (above) to read the rest of it... _


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

COVER REVEAL! Click the link here to see the cover for FRISKY BUSINESS, the next Sasha Jackson Mystery http://jilledmondson.blogspot.ca/2013/10/frisky-business-cover-reveal.html


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

*Mystery Readers Wanted! Advance Reader's Copies Available!*

I'll soon be releasing my mystery novel *FRISKY BUSINESS*. It's a fast-paced , funny whodunit set in Toronto. The main character is a Private Investigator named Sasha Jackson. She hasn't been a PI for very long, though, so she makes some pretty big screw-ups as she goes.

This will be the fourth book featuring Sasha. The plots are independent, so you *don't* need to have read the others for this one to make sense. Each book is a stand-alone mystery.

*FRISKY BUSINESS* will come out before Christmas, and it will only be released on Amazon Kindle (ebook only, no paperback or hard cover).

If interested in reviewing, please email me at: [email protected] .

Thanks in advance! Enjoy! Jill Edmondson

_Here's the synopsis:_

Two months ago, Kitty Vixen - a porn star with a history of drug abuse - was found beaten to death near a Toronto construction site. No one knows why she was killed, but since she was a worthless nobody, the cops aren't making her case a priority.

However, Kitty's roommate and former co-star Raven Greywolf wants answers, so she hires Private Investigator Sasha Jackson to find out just how dirty the adult film industry really is.

As Sasha traipses through the back alleys in the world of adult entertainment, she realizes that a disposable human being can be quite valuable after all, and that both dreams and ambition are priceless.

*Also:* You can read sample chapters before you decide whether you wish to commit to reading and reviewing or not. Click the following link for the excerpts. http://jilledmondson.blogspot.ca/2013/10/chapter-one-frisky-business.html


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

ARC Available!

Just want to put out another request for reviewers. I have ARCs available of my upcoming mystery. Please email me at:
[email protected] if you would like to get a FREE copy of Frisky Business.

If interested in reviewing, please email me at: [email protected] .

Thanks in advance! Enjoy! Jill Edmondson

Here's the synopsis:

Two months ago, Kitty Vixen - a porn star with a history of drug abuse - was found beaten to death near a Toronto construction site. No one knows why she was killed, but since she was a worthless nobody, the cops aren't making her case a priority.

However, Kitty's roommate and former co-star Raven Greywolf wants answers, so she hires Private Investigator Sasha Jackson to find out just how dirty the adult film industry really is.

As Sasha traipses through the back alleys in the world of adult entertainment, she realizes that a disposable human being can be quite valuable after all, and that both dreams and ambition are priceless. 

Also: You can read sample chapters before you decide whether you wish to commit to reading and reviewing or not. Click the following link for the excerpts. http://jilledmondson.blogspot.ca/2013/10/chapter-one-frisky-business.html

The book is not very violent (the murder takes place "off-stage" so to speak). The story is set in Toronto, and it's pretty funny at times. PI Sasha Jackson is in her early thirties and recently became a PI after giving up on a career in the music biz. Basically, she's a hot, single rocker chick who screws up as she tries to sort out her latest sex-themed murder.


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

YAY! I just did my first interview for my new novel, FRISKY BUSINESS (which was just released this week!). Amy Steele of Entertainment Realm asked some great questions, and I gave equally great answers 

Read the interview here: http://entertainmentrealm.com/2013/11/25/steele-interviews-author-jill-edmondson/


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

I was just interviewed on the Nine Day Wonder Blog about Frisky Business, my new Sasha Jackson book. The interviewer asked some great questions! Check it out: http://www.ninedaywonder.com/2013/author-spotlight-jill-edmondson-again

Clip from interview: 
_
9DW: The real life Sasha Jackson moves in as your roommate. What happens next?

JE: Oh crap! If I'm going to get a roommate, why can't it at least be a roomie who can cook? I'm not really a neat freak, but the recycling bin - overflowing with empty pizza boxes - is mildly annoying. Guess I shouldn't sweat the small stuff, though, and besides, with Sasha around, my wardrobe has suddenly doubled! The neighbours, on the other hand, aren't so easy going, even if we do let them use our empty parking space all the time. Sasha and I get one too many complaints about the noise, and eventually some very hot, very buff Chippendales dancers deliver our eviction notice._


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

_Here's a fun little piece I wrote as part of my blog tour in support of the release of *Frisky Business*..._

*Reading & Writing & Dating*

I have long brown hair and blue eyes. I like long walks on the beach, candlelit dinners, cuddling by a fire, and... Oh wait, wrong website. Or maybe not.

Since re-entering the dating world a while ago, I've become acutely aware of the fact that a lot of people out there don't like to read. Also since re-entering the dating world, I've developed a new understanding of my relationship with reading and writing.

Let me be clear: This isn't necessarily about my books. Usually, I won't even tell a potential date the titles of my books; if anything I might say they're mysteries and leave it at that. But I do try to make it clear upfront that writing and books matter to me. And yet...

Read the rest here: http://www.jungleredwriters.com/2013/12/the-single-writers-guide-to-dating.html


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

I'm so happy with this review of Frisky Business!

*Excerpt from Review:*
_Frisky Business was the perfect antidote to the too-saccarine cozies I've been reading lately. It's funny and edgy - like Sasha herself - without being graphically violent or angry and mean._

Read the whole review here: 
http://www.howmysterious.com/2013/12/19/jill-edmondson-frisky-business/


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

Got a great review for Frisky Business!

"Author Strength: There's been a murder, baby! There are suspects to interrogate and friends to interview, naturally. Characters of all kinds come out to play on the pages, and Jill does a magnificent job keeping their voices distinct and separating one from the masses."

Read the whole review here: http://skwills.com/?p=160


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

Bill Selnes, a book reviewer and blogger, and I recently had an interesting email exchange about the porno industry (which is the back-drop of Frisky Business).

Bill has posted the exchange (with my permission) on the _*Mysteries and More*_ blog. Have a look & feel free to chime in on the discussion! http://mysteriesandmore.blogspot.ca/2014/01/email-exchange-with-jill-edmondson-on.html


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## edmjill (Dec 19, 2012)

I was really happy to read this review of Frisky Business!!!
_
"A Canadian hero is sometimes hard to find. A Female Canadian hero is even harder. I can't wait to hear more about what happens in Sasha Jackson's life. 5 big stars."_

Read the whole review here: http://lorneoliver.blogspot.ca/2014/01/sometimes-you-have-to-get-frisky-review.html


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