Trevor Holliday

Trinity Works Alone Trevor Holliday

North of Tucson, Arizona. Trinity's white Bronco didn't turn heads, but it accelerated like a refugee from hell. The truck meant business. Trinity nosed it out of the Western Way parking lot and shot into the morning foothills traffic. Heat radiated from the asphalt. People were headed to their jobs in the city. At the light on the corner of Campbell and Glenn, a knockout blonde in a bright yellow Mercedes smiled at Trinity. Things were good for Trinity. Even on a day promising heat over 110 degrees, he could stay cool. Navajo Nation. Just north of Holbrook, Arizona. The crow awakened him from some kind of vivid dream, but by the time he opened his eyes Edison Graves could barely remember what the dream was about. Was the crow in the dream, or was it flying high above Edison's old Ford F-150? The sun-bleached red truck was older than Edison. He pushed the gray Pendleton blanket aside and looked out over the broad orange panorama of the high desert morning. The clock on his truck's dashboard showed it was almost eight. Frank Trinity is an ex-CID officer living in the Presidio of Tucson. It's a few years before the fall of the Berlin Wall. What does Trinity like? Trinity likes Donna and April, the women who serve him coffee every morning at the Presidio Market, a corner place where Pancho Villa once ate lunch. Trinity likes music ranging from Thelonius Monk to the Ramones. Trinity likes reading books about prospecting for gold. Most of all he likes the freedom he finds in the American Southwest. And Trinity will take a case as a private investigator, for a price. A minor tennis hustle at the Western Way Resort results in Trinity agreeing to find local Tucson abstract artist and morning gin drinker Edward Brooks's missing daughter. Near the Navajo Nation, former football star and current graduate student Edison Graves discovers the murdered body of his older brother Livingston. Livingston could ride a bull like nobody else until an injury in a in Indian rodeo left him disabled and living in a motel in Holbrook. Trinity and Graves both are looking for a drifter named Jerome "Parrot" Parroti. Trinity drives the streets of Tucson in his Ford Bronco, from the foothills to funky Fourth Avenue. It's Tucson in the heat of the summer. In a maze of mayhem, mescaline, murder, and deceit, a manhunt is on with high stakes for both Frank Trinity and Edison Graves. Marvin Minkler writes in The North Star Monthly: "Trinity Works Alone was strong and compelling reading, that had me racing through the pages. A thoroughly readable and entertaining mystery that will keep the reader guessing until the slam-bang ending. I certainly look forward to reading the rest of the series and future novels."