Occupation: San Francisco Homicide Inspector

Shack wakes me up. As usual.

I sleep on the sofa in my Russian Hill house in San Francisco. It’s got the best view in the city. Actually, it’s not my house, I just live there. Shack owns the house, and I rent it from him. He’s my cat.

That’s a long story.

I check the fridge, but it’s empty. My brother’s a chef, and usually he keeps me going with care packages from his food truck, but things are a little cool between me and Duane right now. Maybe it’s because I’m in love with a girl named Tabby who also happens to be my brother’s fiancée.

Yeah, that’s another long story.

My name is Frost Easton. I’m a San Francisco Homicide Inspector. I’m also a lawyer who hates lawyers and a former taxi driver. The word about me in the department is that I like to go it alone. I don’t play well with others. My friends aren’t inside the police headquarters building. They’re outside on the street. They’re the ones who really know what’s going on in the city.

Today I have a mission for them: Find a mystery man named Lombard.

You see, an old friend showed up at my door a few days ago. We hadn’t spoken in years. He was dying from a rare poison, and he only had enough breath left to give me a message. One word. Lombard.

To me, Lombard is nothing but a crooked street here in San Francisco. But the word seems to scare a lot of people. Everyone who talks about it winds up dead. And painted near their bodies is a twisted red snake that looks a lot like that crooked San Francisco street.

I head outside to my SFPD Chevy Suburban. Shack goes with me. He usually does. When I head down the Russian Hill streets, I glance in my rear-view mirror. There’s a charcoal-gray BMW behind me. It’s been there for days, tracking me across the city. I’m pretty sure whoever is behind of the wheel of the BMW works for Lombard.

The police chief thinks I’m crazy. He tells me that Lombard is a myth, that there’s no master-criminal pulling strings behind the scenes, that I’m paranoid. Well, you know what they say. Just because you’re paranoid. . .

I check the mirror again. The BMW is still there.

Right now, I don’t know who to trust. Who’s part of Lombard and who’s not. Lombard has eyes and ears everywhere, all the way into the police department and City Hall. Following me. Watching me. Listening to me. Targeting everyone who knows me.

He’s like my Moriarty.

Actually, I do know who I can trust. No one.

You can read more about Frost in The Crooked Street, the third book in the “Frost Easton” thriller, released January 29, 2019.

The hunt for a killer in San Francisco becomes a dizzying game of cat and mouse in a thrilling novel of psychological suspense.

“Lombard is your Moriarty, Frost. Taking him down will be the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done.”

San Francisco homicide detective Frost Easton hadn’t seen his estranged friend Denny in years. Not until he dies in Frost’s arms uttering a final inexplicable word: Lombard. Denny appears to be the latest victim in a string of murders linked by a distinctive clue: the painting of a spiraled snake near the crime scenes. Is it the work of a serial killer? Or is Denny’s death more twisted and personal?

To find the answer, Frost reaches into a nest of vipers—San Francisco’s shady elite—where the whispered name of Lombard is just one secret. Now, drawn into a cat-and-mouse game with an enemy who knows his every move, Frost finds there is no one he can trust. And somewhere down the crooked streets of the city, Frost’s cunning adversary is coiled and ready to strike again.

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About the author
The Crooked Street, the latest Frost Easton thriller from Brian Freeman (bfreemanbooks.com), was released on January 29. Brian is the author of 17 novels, including the #1 Amazon bestseller The Night Bird.

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