Big Johnson is back, and the stakes have never been higher.

n

It was a cool April evening on the Mississippi, and I was fighting a losing battle at the poker table on the Ragin Cajun—a floating casino churning its way up the river. Down five large and surrounded by a table of questionable characters—from my flashy associate Pimpin Jack Frost to a silent, tattooed ex-con named Pig—I was looking for a way to come up off my losing streak.

n

Frost was dressed in a red, one-piece jumpsuit, with a low vee-neck front revealing a host of gold chains. He wore matching red pimp shoes, a white fur coat draped stylishly over his shoulders, with a matching white fur fedora cocked ace-duce.

n

Me, I was wearing a white, with blue pinstriped seersucker suit that was nice and cool. I wore a white Panama hat on my head cocked in a rakish manner. My dress shirt was pale blue, and I was sporten a blood red bowtie. I was dressed sharper than a Harlem sissy.

n

I looked up from the table and saw Madam Dubré hurrying over. She leaned in and spoke softly in my ear: “I’m missing one of my girls and we can’t find her anywhere.”

n

How does a girl just disappear on a traveling riverboat? Knowing my skill in locating lost souls Madam Dubré hires me to begin a dangerous new adventure on the mean streets of New Orleans. Welcome to my world.

n

"A masterclass in noir. Ralph Griffith delivers a high-stakes, sweat-drenched ride through the dark waters of the Mississippi that you won't be able to put down."

n

“Big Johnson is the most compelling investigator to hit the mean streets of New Orleans in years. Sharp, gritty, and unapologetically bold—The Ragin Cajun is a must-read."

n

"Style, suspense, and a voice that hits like a freight train. Griffith captures the humid, dangerous pulse of the Big Easy perfectly."

n

The Ragin Cajun

Comentarios