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Justice Comes After Death  The Enforcer  * Justice Comes After Death  * The Enforcer  * Justice Comes After Death

Justice Comes After Death  * The Enforcer  * Justice Comes After Death  * The Enforcer  *  Justice Comes After Death

I'm glad you came.

Well, to get to the point, I have resumed an old pastime of mine, writing fiction, or, mysteries to be a bit more specific. I'm now working on my third book.

Among my readership are folks of both genders and of all ages. College kids as well as grandparents have enjoyed my depiction of the way of life in coastal South Carolina. That's why the books make excellent gifts for all occasions.

The books may be obtained from amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, and infinitypublishing.com (just type in my name and/or the book title).                     

Hope to hear from you soon,

Werner Hoppe
Tel. (843) 325-1952

Readers comments:

"one of the best murder mysteries I have read recently" (barnesandnoble.com)
"a compelling read with a well hidden conclusion" (reader's review)
"set between two continents . . . fast paced, interesting tale . . . surprise conclusion . . . " (Fth. R. F.)

Excerpts from Justice Comes After Death: 

    At 10:15 a.m. Clemson University marine biologist Mark Hatfield was proofreading an essay he had written for one of his university's student papers, when the phone rang. He was slightly irritated but did pick up on the third ring.
    "Four people? That's all? You think we should wait till we get a few more?" He was hoping to stall them a bit, maybe half an hour or so. They could browse around in the history room and inspect the Indian artifacts or the exhibits of the rice culture. Just as long as it took him to wrap up this article.

    "This is part of Winyah Bay. All these strange names remind us of the first inhabitants of the area, the Indians, and likewise do the titles of the four rivers that give up their independence in the bay or the Intracoastal Waterway before they are ultimately swallowed up by the mighty Atlantic Ocean: Waccamaw, Pee Dee, Black and Sampit." He used this phraseology sometimes for dramatic effect. And today he thought the children might like it or were even impressed. 
    "Wedged between the Bay and the Atlantic gives the Barony's title perfect justification: Hobcaw means 'between the waters'."
    And while he was leading the group to the water's edge he saw something in the high reed that didn't belong there. He yanked his cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and called 911. After he had given the operator the necessary instructions and exact location he called Christie in the front office. "I'm sending the people back. Give them back their money."
    "What happened? You bored them to the max already?"
    "No, on the contrary. I found something."
    "Really? What? Tell me!"
    "From the looks of it, someone who isn't breathing anymore."
    " Oh my God!"

    His life had been structured around his small family and his work at the college until it took an abrupt turn on that chilly, tragic day in October, some five years ago. The nightmares were still flashing bits and pieces in devastatingly realistic pictures before his closed eyes, indicative of the reality that the ravages of this day would never leave his mind.
    "So I get to meet my ex's new beau. Well, we'll need to do something about that, don't we," spitting a wad of blood out of the corner of his mouth.
    Shoemaker knew he couldn't allow the guy to regain his full composure. He was obviously trying to buy time. He was about to deliver another punch when he caught a glimpse at the thug's left hand reaching in his pants pocket. A thundering shot echoed through the dead of night.

Excerpts from The Enforcer (from the Prologue):

     The alabaster-white flap was opened and a hand slowly pushed the ivory tray holding a cup of freshly brewed Earl Grey tea, a glass bowl with hot porridge oats, and one slice of dry toast across the platform through a one-foot square opening that linked the living area with the bedroom.

     In his sitting position the man on the bed only needed to reach over to retrieve the tray.

“Close the hatch, Ahmadu,” he demanded from his cook when this wasn’t done right away. Growling a few choice words – none of them likely to be listed in the Queen’s Royal Vocabulary Manual for British Diplomats – more so because of the inconvenience having to get up than the servant’s omission. And when he reached his hand over to the other side of the wall in an attempt to pull the hatch, the razor-sharp machete flashed down in a wail of high-pitched shrieks from one side and a hellish roar from the other side of the wall.

They called him a madman, a psycho. He didn’t like that. His precision and craftsmanship could not have been the work of a madman. But then again, they didn’t know. The only name he approved of was the one the second of his two inner voices had given to him: the Enforcer.
     And when Michelle Brown at precisely 7:15 p.m. turned the key to open the front door of her Garden City condo, she had no idea that this was the last time she would do this.

Excerpts from Farewell (from the Prologue):
     The former sheriff of Georgetown County enjoyed a glimpse of the sunlit ripples dancing on the sparkling crown of the mysterious Winyah Bay.

    He was anxious to get the first part over with as fast as he possibly could. The part he didn’t tell his wife Marge about . . . But when Linus mentioned that SLED had asked for someone from the Georgetown County Sheriff's Department to be present when a prisoner from Rykers was brought to the Myrtle Beach Airport and from there taken to GCDC, he offered to be that person.

     Jimmy Perdue was the golf pro there. From time to time he invited the former sheriff to play his court at the club's expense. Grimm had taken Jimmy under his wing when the young man was about to fall off a cliff.
     He was just about eighteen years old when he was involved in a betting scandal that earned him nine months behind bars.

    Although when he asked him this time to come over, it sounded to him more like a plea rather than an invitation.

     As he had done so many times before the former lawman betrayed his advanced age, thrusting his trimmer-than-ever body in the direction from where the shot came.
     However, his curiosity came to an unexpected halt, when Amos Grimm felt a vise-like grip clamping down on his neck.





















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