I had been on the road for weeks, trying to burn out my anger at Fiora for pulling in the FBI rather than letting me handle a case my way. Then a flat tire and a cold wind sent me into the shelter of a Santa Fe art gallery.
No problem, right? A tire is a tire is a tire.
Before I was done, I found myself hounded by the IRS, forced off the road by Fiora, and under a cold-blooded murder’s gun. Along the way, there was a tax scam, a dead art professor, and a missing painting worth millions.
The good news was that Fiora and I were together again.
The bad news was that we could die that way.
Originally published June 1989 in hardcover and June 1993 in mass market paperback.