11th Hour BY James Patterson & Maxine Paetro

I liked most of the Women's murder club books but this one may very well be the best of the lot Patterson is the master of mystery. Another fast paced story from James Patterson as we rejoined with the four women of the "Women's Murder Club" in this sequel "11th Hour". In 11th Hour , we find out that Lindsey Boxer is pregnant with hubby Joe's baby , Cindy is engaged to Rich Conklin , Yuki is sleeping with Lindsey's boss Jackson and of course Claire is just being Claire.In Most of James's novels there is a couple of twists and usually two main story lines . The first story line is that somebody is killing all the hoodlums on the street mostly Drug Dealers  but when one of the dealers turns out to have been an Undercover FBI agent , it is discovered that the killer known as "Revenge" could very well be not only a cop killer but a cop and the top of the suspicious list is Lindsey and Rich's ex Jacobi, Can the pair prove Jacobi's innocent and track down the real killer ? The other tale is that in one of the Richest estates - a couple of skulls were found and then ultimately it is uncovered that the backyard is like Skull ecstasy as a total seven skulls are located . Who is the mysterious killer and where is the rest of the bodies ? If solving these cases weren't hard enough , Lindsey is having issues and fears that she may lose her job and she has no-one to talk to when a female co-worker of Joe's lets her on a little secret relationship she had with him.
What happens when the clock strikes Eleven ?

                  

11th Hour (Women's Murder Club)
Find out in Eleventh Hour by James Patterson and Maxine Paetro.

Here's a exert from Pattersons blog http://www.jamespatterson.com/books_11thHour.php#excerpts
A GOOD-LOOKING MAN in his forties sat in the back row of the auditorium at the exclusive Morton Academy of Music. He was wearing a blue suit, white shirt, and a snappy striped tie. His features were good, although not remarkable, but behind the blue tint of his glasses, he had very kind brown eyes.
He had come to the recital alone and had a passing thought about his wife and children at home, but then he refocused his attention on someone else’s child.
Her name was Noelle Smith. She was eleven, a cute little girl and a very talented young violinist who had just performed a Bach gavotte with distinction.
Noelle knew she’d done well. She took a deep bow with a flourish, grinning as two hundred parents in the audience clapped and whistled.
As the applause died down, a gray-haired man in the third row popped up from his seat, buttoned his jacket, stepped out into the aisle, and headed toward the lobby.
That man was Chaz Smith, Noelle’s father.
The man in the blue suit waited several seconds, then followed Smith, staying back a few paces, walking along the cream-tiled corridor, then taking a right past the pint-size water fountain and into the short spur of a hallway that ended at the men’s room.
After entering the men’s room, he looked beneath the stalls and saw Chaz Smith’s Italian loafers under the door at the far right. Otherwise, the room was empty. In a minute or two, the room would fill.
The man in the blue suit moved quickly, picking up the large metal trash can next to the sink and placing it so that it blocked the exit.
Then he called out, “Mr. Smith? I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s about your car.”
“What? Who is that?”
“Your car, Mr. Smith. You left your lights on.”
The man in the blue suit removed his semiauto .22-caliber Ruger from his jacket pocket, screwed on the suppressor. Then he took out a tan-colored plastic bag, the kind you get at the supermarket, and pulled the bag over his gun.
Smith swore. Then the toilet flushed and Smith opened the door. His gray hair was mussed, white powder rimmed his nostrils, and his face showed fierce indignation.
“You’re sure it’s my car?” he said. “My wife will kill me if I’m not back in my seat for the finale.”
“I’m really sorry to do this to your wife and child. Noelle played beautifully.”
Smith looked puzzled—then he knew. He dropped the vial of coke, and his hand dove under his jacket. Too late.
The man in the blue suit lifted his bag-covered gun, pulled the trigger, and shot Chaz Smith twice between the eyes.
Copyright © 2012 by James Patterson Available in kindle and nook

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