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ABRAHAM HOROWITZ PRIVATE EYE

CHAPTER ONE

The PI racket is as unforgiving as a jilted lover, the kind that holds a grudge. It hardly seems fair, while other guys are out hugging their dolls and paintin’ the town, I’m stuck sitting in a dingy office above Leber's Delicatessen hugging a bottle of bourbon. But then, what am I talking about? Fair? The only kind of fair I know has rigged games and overpriced cotton candy.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I guess you might even say I've got it pretty good. After all,...

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