THE BOOKS

DUMPSTER DYING
Oak Tree Press
ISBN 978-1-61009-006-3
LCCN 2010939987
Emily Rhodes came to rural Florida for the cowboys, the cattle, and to do a little country two-step, not to fall head first onto a dead body in a dumpster.
Read an excerpt from Dumpster Dying
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"Diehl combines a snappy plot with humor and a feel for old Florida to give us an entertaining story set among ranches instead of beaches. Emily learns to love the wilds of Florida. The reader will too."
--Jan Day, author of The Pirate Pink series and The Cow Cracker series
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"Things are never dull with a senior sleuth on the case. Deadly and delightful."
--Sunny Frazier, author of the Christy Bristol Astrology Mysteries
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"This author has written a red-hit novel which brings out the 'Sherlock Holmes' in all mystery lovers."
--Clark Isaacs, Clark’s Eye on Books, Kingman Daily Miner
DUMPSTER DYING: EXCERPT
Golf in rural Florida is hazardous--gators on the fairway and bodies in the trash...
"I guess you thought that was pretty funny,” he said.
As he advanced on her, she retreated along the river, backing up and not taking her eyes off him.
“Stop right there,” he said.
Emily continued to retreat, but walking backward was far slower than the steps he took forward. Besides he had a good foot on her in height.
She was about to turn and run, when he grabbed for her and caught her forearm in a steel-like grip. She looked up into his icy blue eyes and rued having played her little joke on him. He seemed not to have much of a sense of humor.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She tried to wiggle her arm out of his grasp, but he held on tight. “I wanted to talk to you, but you’re so damn arrogant. You deserved what you got.” Wait a minute. Was she apologizing or goading him into greater fury?
He smiled a bit, the anger lifting from his lined face. He also let up the pressure of his grasp. Emily twisted away from him, and ran along the river bank.
“Oh, hey. I forgot to tell you. You’re making straight for a gator on the bank there. About twenty feet in front of you.”
Emily stumbled in her attempt to make her feet stop moving. Sure enough, a fifteen foot gator sat in front of her, unmoving, eyes closed, but menacing all the same. Emily reversed direction, dashing back toward Green and throwing herself into his arms.
“Save me,” she said.
“Tell me why I’d want to do that.”
“There’s a job in it for you. And twenty bucks,” she said. She inserted her hand in her pocket, fumbled around with the change she carried there, and withdrew a five.
“A down payment.” She held the bill in front of his eyes.
“Shoo,” he said to the gator.