The Poison Cup

In the summer of 1956, for his amusement, Pete Turner raced his souped up '39 Ford coup on the local dirt tracks. For his profession, he bootlegged the Appalachian foothill's finest moonshine.

Neither of these pastimes weighed in much to assuage the hate driving his every thought and plan, one nurtured for ten years by a secret from the past.

Until he resolved to kill the secret and solicit murder for hire.