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OPERATION PARADISE
by
SARAH EVANS
Blurb
Perth cop Eve Rock is investigating a series of abductions from the seedy inner-city Paradise Nightclub when her boss adds a murder case to her workload.
Now, Eve loves a challenge - about as much as she loves red wine, exotic food and cigars - but this case is a bit tricky because she'd speed dated the sleazy salesman hours before he met his Maker.
But then `tricky' is Eve's middle name.
Her mum's a former hooker-turned-nun who runs a select girls school.
Her daughter's a fanatical `Virgin Vigilante' who attends that same school.
And Eve is being stalked by a department store Santa.
If that isn't enough, her love life is dead in the water.
Or it is until Eve meets dreamy undercover cop Adam Fox whose sex appeal isn't diminished by his slut heels and micro skirt.
And then there's his equally gorgeous dad…
Eve's life could be peachy… except now someone wants to kill her.
Operation Paradise is the debut crime novel for West Australian writer Sarah Evans and the first in the Eve Rock comic crime series.
Dedication
I dedicate this book to my lovely family who have been with me through this novel's arduous journey. Writing isn't for the faint hearted.
Acknowledgements
Operation Paradise has been a long time coming. It started life as a short story in 2003 and was shortlisted in an international award. I then rewrote it for the Romance Writers of Australia's first chapter competition where it was placed third in 2004.
The New York judges requested the full manuscript. Eek, I only had three thousand words! But I promised to deliver it in four months, which I did, but only because my husband was made redundant. He took over the children's home-schooling during those weeks. Then nothing happened for eighteen months until the sad rejection came through.
I then systematically sent it off to publishers everywhere until the gorgeous gals at Clan Destine Press decided to run with it. Thank you, Lindy and the gang.
Now, eleven years on, here's the long awaited Operation Paradise!
I do hope you enjoy reading of Eve's adventures because I so enjoyed writing them.
Chapter One
The black mini skirt was cool. The red slut heels wicked. The scarlet top would have been tastier cropped, though not on DS Fox. Even the perp would have baulked at his hairy belly button.
`You're looking cute, Foxy,' I said into the transmitter.
Foxy slung a hip over one shapely, spangle-stockinged leg and pouted.
`All the boys are hot,' I added for good measure.
Foxy held up an explicit finger.
`And you should show more respect to a senior officer,' I said.
Even from this distance I could see his stance freeze, his lips working on a litany of silent curses. Fox then dipped his head and spoke into his cleavage. `Sorry, boss. I thought you were one of the team.'
`I am. I've just come aboard. DI Eve Rock.'
`Welcome to Paradise, DI Rock,' said Fox.
That could have been a slick one-liner but Fox was actually referring to `Operation Paradise', a police operation launched to apprehend the person or gang abducting young women from Perth's Paradise Nightclub. I'd been seconded to help head the operation. This was my first day.
`Thanks, Foxy,' I said. `Good luck and careful you don't snag a stocking.'
`Yeah, right.'
I terminated radio contact and leaned against the wall, gazing down at the street corner where DS Fox was strutting his stuff. I was in one of the top rooms of an office building that was directly opposite the purple-painted Paradise Nightclub. The guys had been camping in this room for a couple of days and it was already a festering tip. Fast food wrappers spilled over from the bins and half-drunk cups of cold, scummy coffee littered every available surface. The air was stale with sweat and old pizza. It made my blood zing, causing my heart to shift up a beat or three. I love surveillance. It's a buzz.
But the ultimate is catching the crooks. That's better than sex. Even better than chocolate, and that's saying something. But right now, a box of Belgian shells would've had the edge. We had nothing to go on and time was ticking on. DI Sodbury was the investigating officer but he'd hit dirt and I'd been seconded from the suburbs to lend a helping hand, much to his disgust. It was a Wednesday before the long weekend's revelry and the Chief didn't want any more girls going missing. Abduction took the shine off holiday jollies.
So far three women had disappeared in a fortnight. Thankfully no bodies had surfaced, though that wasn't to say they wouldn't. I'd read the case reports just that morning. There was, as yet, no common denominator between the women, except they were young. Whoever was abducting them didn't seem to mind if they were fat, thin, blonde or brunette.
I didn't hold out much hope of Fox leading us to the abductor. Neither did Sodbury. It was the one and only thing we'd agreed on since I'd met him at the briefing.
Sodbury was one of those precious dinosaurs who believed a woman's place was in the home, barefoot, pregnant and preferably wearing slinks. He was late fifties with thin sandy hair holding on to a balding scalp for dear life; small, beady eyes that continuously flicked back and forth; a cauliflower nose and slack-lipped mouth. No Mr Universe and not my type by a thousand-fold, but that didn't stop him being a good solid copper.
Sodbury and I were told that Fox was an excellent undercover officer who knew the seedier side of life. The deskbound superiors reckoned it was worth having him on the ground floor, saving them the hassle of having a woman cop in the firing line. I didn't agree. The firing line was why I'd joined the force, but who was I to argue the toss? I'd learned the hard way to keep my mouth shut on these smaller skirmishes. It was the overall war that mattered.
I trained powerful binoculars on Fox. He was getting some grief from the local tarts who thought he was poaching their punters. Some hope. He said something to them and the next minute the women were slapping their bare thighs and laughing loud. Fox turned slightly sideways and I zoomed in on his impressive bosom. It was firm and fruity. He must have borrowed a D-cup bra from a well-upholstered WPC and stuffed it with a lush pair of grapefruit.
`Damn but he makes a tasty chick,' said Burton, one of the surveillance officers. The brown-haired cop, who at a guess was in his mid-thirties, was already running
