ANY WAY THE WIND BLOWS

Mrs Charlotte De Granville wanted a quiet, unobtrusive, not too clever private detective for a very discreet little job. The nature of the assignment dictated a certain economy of truth when it came to briefing said detective.He would detect and she would take care of the rest -- with extreme prejudice.Anthony M Moretti, failed pro golfer, onetime Miami nightclub hustler, successful loser, and more recently PI specializing in divorce work, fitted the bill rather nicely.So Tony got the job and a whole lot besides and what was to be a routine yawn with glossy prints quickly turned into the kind of bad trip he could have done without. The kind of trip that would take him from the glitter of Cape Town's jet set to the rotten underbelly of pulsating Durban to the tropical paradise of Grand Comoros.Except there was something very wrong in paradise and it would take some fancy footwork to put together the pieces of the puzzle and still be in one piece when the masks, and the gloves, finally came off.No problem really; not for a man who through the years had shed every illusion, seen every dream do a smoke and mirrors act, learned all of life's seedy small jokes in the hard school of the real world. But somewhere along the way things had become complicated, even for a cynic like Tony Moretti. Things like a hard as nails beauty who could do what no man should ever be exposed to. Or a woman who could stomach a revolution but not a man's betrayal and an ageing soldier of fortune who really should have known better.And a soft eyed woman with a voice like Nina Simone who would open up old long forgotten wounds that would have been so much better left buried in the barren patch that was the heart of Tony Moretti.