A Margarita, A Mystery, and a Whole Lot of Salsa

A Crime‑Writer’s Cinco de Mayo…with Tongue Firmly in Cheek

The margarita is cold, but the trail is blood‑red.

While everyone else is counting tacos, I’m counting alibis. In a town this festive, a scream could pass for celebration, and the scent of gunpowder blends a little too easily with sizzling fajitas.

Don’t worry — I’m kidding. Mostly.

Today, the only thing more twisted than this lime peel is the plot I’m brewing. Enjoy the fiesta, but keep your back to the wall—someone isn’t just here for the guacamole.

Happy Cinco de Mayo to my fellow thrill‑seekers. Stay sharp...and save me a taco.