PETER DULUTH AWOKE TO THE SMELL OF ROSES, BUT MURDER WAS IN THE AIR.
His mind swan through waves of amnesia, into the sunsplashed sickroom came three mysterious women. One said she was his mother. A sardonic brunette claimed to be his kid sister. But the blonde -- as dazzling and silky as a moonlit California night -- she was his wife, and too beautiful to be good.
Trouble was, they all insisted he was Gordon Friend, alcoholic heir to a whopping, hotly contested fortune.
His “wife” was intoxicating, the prospect of being rich was alluring, but without a shred of his true identity to reassure him, Peter began to suspect he was being groomed for more than a financial windfall -- as the fall-guy in a fiendishly cunning crime.
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