"When a mentally ill woman is the only witness to a murder, her family rallies around her even though it means running all over Las Vegas in this hard-hitting but affectionate debut...Fast-paced, funny, and gritty—the perfect read for lounging by a casino pool."—Kirkus Reviews
"A Justified Bitch” by H.G. McKinnis is great for teens, adults, and anyone who wants a great read on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It’s also great for those who love to solve the mystery before the book ends. It took a different twist than I expected, so good luck to you sleuths out there!"—Anna Riley, Reader Views
"An insightful, delightful, madcap read. The story is as much a look into the issues of mental illness as it is a mystery. But Helen, and how she tries to cope with her issues is, for me, the best part of the book. She is a terrific character and I was hooked right from the first chapter." —Marian Misters, SLEUTH of Baker Street, bookseller
"One of the most intriguing aspects of the book — besides its unexpected humor — is the thread of mental illness depicted...But it’s also about murder, how families work or don’t work and healing, all deftly woven into the fabric of an intriguing whole." —John Przybys, Las Vegas Review-Journal
"From its swap-meet beginning and its too-real emotions to its funky title, H.G. McKinnis’ debut novel is rooted in the real Las Vegas.”--Desiree Sheck, Desert Companion KNPR Magazine
"The true story here is one of a sister helping a sister, a mother-and-child-reunion, and a woman on the road to recovery…The novel captures Helen’s condition, and her dead-husband repartee, with a lightness that belies the real-life notion of a woman so far gone that police reel away from her body odor. This sets an early tone for a murder mystery full of chuckles and lovable characters, though the novel grows more serious as it progresses."—Leia Menlove, Foreword Reviews
“McKinnis really knows how to tell an story and she knows how to build full portraits of the people in her story. I loved the characters, the plot, the Old Las Vegas vibe, and the book’s message of recovery and redemption.”--Ruth Mormon, RoadTripAmerica.com
"With a deft hand and a light touch, H.G. McKinnis takes us on a wild Vegas ride, tempering the mischief with a poignant tour through mental illness." — Deborah Coonts, author of the Lucky O’Toole Vegas Adventure Series
“A Justified Bitch is an engaging mystery with dark humor and witty repartee between characters.”—Diane Taylor, Living-Las-Vegas.com
"H.G. McKinnis has given us a captivating story populated with charming neurotics, psychotics, crooks, cons, cops and lost souls." — Casandra Firman, author of One Christmas in Old Tascosa
"A Justified Bitch is a justified good read." — Brian Rouff, author of The House Always Wins
“In this brilliant tale of mental illness, murder, and families ties, H.G. McKinnis captures life on the side of Las Vegas tourists seldom see and throws light on the often misunderstood phenomenon of hoarding. Suspenseful, funny, moving, and inspiring, A Justified Bitch is well-crafted and engaging from beginning to end.” —Megan Edwards, author of Getting off on Frank Sinatra
A Justified Bitch: A Las Vegas Mystery
Narrated by Jane Oppenheimer
H.G. McKinnisUnabridged — 9 hours, 50 minutes
A Justified Bitch: A Las Vegas Mystery
Narrated by Jane Oppenheimer
H.G. McKinnisUnabridged — 9 hours, 50 minutes
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Overview
Editorial Reviews
2017-06-06
When a mentally ill woman is the only witness to a murder, her family rallies around her even though it means running all over Las Vegas in this hard-hitting but affectionate debut.Local prostitute Bebe Small has been brutally murdered and dismembered, and Helen Taylor is the only witness. That's a problem for Detective Jake Madison, because Helen didn't see just Bebe's death—she also sees and chats with her long-dead husband, Bobby, more than she does with the living. The police take her into protective custody, but Helen won't listen to anyone but Bobby as a parade of colorful characters, including hard-partying lesbian hairdressers Hope and Rasheeda, comes and goes in the holding cell. Finally, Jake tracks down Helen's sister, Pat. Pat pulls into town with her teenage boys, Jordan and Marc, to rescue her sister and checks them all into Caesar's Palace. Not convinced that Caesar's is the most therapeutic environment for Helen, Jake suggests she enter Mind Care, a mental health treatment facility run by Dr. Ingrid Urbane, his perfectionist girlfriend. While Helen gives treatment a try, Pat purges and fumigates Helen's derelict house, Jordan leaps at the chance to become an entrepreneur running Helen's stall at the swap meet, and Marc gets busted peeping at casino dancers. As the psychiatric treatment starts to take effect, Helen can't bear to lose Bobby for good, so she sneaks out of Mind Care and hits the town with Hope and Rasheeda. When the killer strikes again, can they prove Helen's innocence? Fast-paced, funny, and gritty—the perfect read for lounging by a casino pool.
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940177041353 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Imbrifex Books |
| Publication date: | 07/24/2017 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
Read an Excerpt
Chapter One
Friday, July 2
The Las Vegas heat shimmered off the patched asphalt, giving an opaque and eerie quality to the air. Sitting on her porch, Helen stared into the afternoon sky, rocking and humming quietly. The corner lot gave her an exceptional view of the neighborhood. Through the wire-enclosed backyards, she had an unobstructed view of the cluttered expanse all the way to the next corner. In the opposite direction, long-abandoned treasures lay baking in the sun: old cars, worn-out furniture, and less defined objects—maybe toys, maybe tools—all of them showing signs of exposure to the harsh desert environment. Across the street, beyond a car tagged with an orange tow-away sticker, she tried to decipher the hieroglyphics of the new graffiti spray-painted across the front of the Sanchez house. No message there.
A bike jump had been set up behind the car, and two teenagers wearing nothing but cargo shorts were practicing kamikaze acrobatics on their skateboards. One kid, a short Latino with tattoos on both arms, flew off the ramp and landed on the sidewalk, pumping his fist in the air and laughing in triumph. No message there.
Next door, Lupe and Fuzzball were howling, the sound rising and falling with unceasing monotony. Not a message she wanted to hear.
Bobby plopped down beside her, wearing the same shorts,T-shirt, and hiking boots he had been wearing ten years earlier when he stepped off a sixty-foot cliff in the Ruby Mountains. Helen glanced toward Bebe’s house, afraid she had seen something horrific, but not sure. It could have been another hallucination, or a late-morning dream. “What do you think?”
Squinting, Bobby craned his neck toward the back fence, a sagging chain-link. Don’t really know.
From the corner of the yard, Stripes crept toward them. Wary, the cat crouched in the brown grass, ears up, pupils wide, something in her mouth. Her green eyes focused on Helen, as if trying to communicate telepathically. Connection made, she crept forward, her coloring a perfect match for the dry grass, her prize poking out the side of her mouth like a mini cigar, then she zipped forward and deposited her gift at Helen’s feet.
Helen stared at the offering, a woman’s finger, the fingernail sporting a French manicure with a tiny fake diamond at the tip. The opposite end looked as if it had been snipped off with pruning shears, the white of the bone even with the flesh. “How about that? Bebe must have lost her press-on finger.”
Bobby gave a disgusted snort. She wears press-on nails, not press-on fingers. Looks like she cut it off.
Helen’s stomach knotted in sympathy. “Why would she do that?”
The baying from the next yard took on a mechanical quality,then quickly mutated into the familiar sound of emergency vehicles. When a squad of police cars screeched to a halt in front of Bebe’s house, Helen realized she hadn’t imagined things—the flashing lights proved that.
Uniforms slammed out of the cars, swarming around the house like well-armed ants. A large uniform, consisting of khaki pants and a matching shirt, banged his fist against the door. “Metro! Open up!” When no one answered, the man waved another uniform forward.
Helen wondered if it would be worthwhile to sell used uniforms in her booth. The police sure seemed to need a lot of them.
The new man hoisted a hand-held battering ram, and at some unseen signal smashed open the door. A gang of uniforms raced inside, their voices echoing back through the opening.
“Watch it!”
“Christ Almighty!”
“It’s a damn slaughterhouse.”
“Don’t step on anything!”
“Check the hall!”
“Holy shit, wait for Crime Scene! Wait for Crime Scene!”
“Back out, goddamnit!”
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