Actually, I must confess I don’t know that much about Beth’s days—I mean, those she doesn’t tell me about. My guess is hers aren’t so much different from other women who live alone. Well, not much different from other women who live alone and happen to be female private investigators who get embroiled in theft, muggings, murder, kidnappings, and what all.

As for me, yeah, I know about my days. One way to sum them up is BOOOOOOOOORING, except when one of my characters comes to visit. I get up between 7 and 8 o’clock, retrieve the newspaper from the driveway (we have an excellent paper-person), drink coffee (lots of it), and catch up on the news. The TV is on to a cable news channel (I mute the commercials, which means the TV is quiet most of the time.) About ten-ish, I bicycle to the gym where I push weights. Since I live in an over-55 community, we have an excellent exercise facility—underused, but that suits me fine. After exercise, I bike around the neighborhood to get some miles, then come home for breakfast/brunch. Like I said, BOOOOOOOOORING.

The fun for me begins in the afternoon. That’s when Beth drops in and talks about her latest case. Like the one she just wrapped up. She had me on the edge of my seat and worried about her as she gave me all the details. No, that’s not right. I’m doubting she gave me all the details since she met the love of her life, David Rasmussen, during the case. Anyway, it’s a heck of a story that almost cost me my dear friend.

According to Beth, the case she calls Hot Rocks started when she was contacted by Maria Garcia and hired to get the goods on Maria’s husband, Hector. No big deal. Beth has followed lots of philandering husbands and an almost equal number of philandering wives. She’s good at it, especially when given as much info as Ms. Garcia gave her—detailed description of Hector and his wheels, plus where Beth could begin her surveillance. Once Beth slapped a GPS device on his car, following him was a snap.

He drove straight to a nice hotel and went inside. No stopping at the desk for info, which told Beth he knew exactly where the rendezvous was to be. Up to the seventh floor with Beth in hot pursuit. After he entered a room, Beth followed to get the number, figuring that should wrap up an easy report. Through a crack in the door, not properly closed, she heard, “You sonnavabitch, I ought to kill you for that.” That was followed by a smacking sound and, “You’re dead, you bastard,” in the same voice.

Well, Beth couldn’t stand by and allow someone to die, so she rushed to the rescue. Big mistake. She took about two steps into the room and received a crushing blow to the back of her head, knocking her unconscious. When she woke, a man lay dead in front of her—Hector Garcia. Her gun was near her outstretched hand. The room was empty, no evidence anyone had been there. Beth knew she was in trouble and the police agreed with her. Her story became more shaky when the police learned the dead man was not married and was not named Hector Garcia.

I mean, by that point in Beth’s story, I was up on the edge of my seat, wanting to know what happened next. She told me as I typed as fast as I could. Thus was born Hot Rocks, a Beth Bowman mystery which is out in November 2012 from Midnight Ink. It’s available in bookstores everywhere and online from your favorite site. Or, you can just Google Hot Rocks by Randy Rawls.

In retrospect, I have to admit that some of my days aren’t so BOOOOOOOOORING. At least not those when Beth chooses to share her life with me.

You can read more about Beth in HOT ROCKS, the first book in the new “Beth Bowman” mystery series.

Meet the author
Randy Rawls is a retired US Army officer and Department of Defense civilian. During those years, he honed his craft as a writer in various leadership and administrative positions. After retiring, he turned his hand to writing fiction.

He is the multi-published author of the Ace Edwards, Dallas PI series, as well as short stories in various venues. Living in South Florida where the line between fiction and non-fiction blurs gives him a rich environment in which to harvest plots. One of his favorite sayings is, “There is no fiction in South Florida. It either happened yesterday, is happening today, or will happen tomorrow.”

Visit Randy at

Books are available at retail and online booksellers.

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