Good Lookin'

A Joe Turner Mystery

From the gang-ravaged streets of inner-city Oakland to the rolling hills of Berkeley, California, attorney Joe Turner defends the most hardened criminals. Confronted with an unlikely murderer in a modern-day whodunnit, Turner’s latest case seems impossible to unravel. At its heart is a decade-old murder and a tangled web of family loyalty and devotion. Viewed through the prism of the unique bond of twins, “Good Lookin’” asks how far each of us will go to protect the ones we love.


“A rigorous, thoroughly engrossing mystery from a writer with immense potential.”

- Kirkus Reviews

“T.L. Bequette creates a brilliant masterpiece that is easy to love and hard to forget.”

– San Francisco Book Review

An Excerpt from Good Lookin': A Joe Turner Mystery

For a split second I thought about running, but Dunigan filled the doorway as he picked up the unconscious deputy with his handcuffed meat hooks and effortlessly tossed him into the hallway. I’ll never forget the hollow clang of the metal door when he shut it, locking us inside the tiny room. I smashed a red alarm button on the wall behind me just before the giant prisoner slid the heavy metal table across the room as if it were made of plastic, pinning me against the wall. The behemoth leaned on the table and stared at me, eyes wild and grinning  maniacally. He took a couple deep breaths and forcefully blew the air and spittle out through his yellowed teeth.

He stood up straight, keeping me pinned to the wall, leaning his girth against the table. I tried to push it away with both hands, twisting frantically, but it was useless against his weight and strength. His grin widened and his breathing intensified as if aroused by my fear. Then he reached toward my head with his two hands the size of catcher’s mitts, holding them there a few inches from my head. I turned sideways and pressed my cheek against the wall, keeping sight of his hands with one eye that pulsed with panic. He kept his hands there, close to my face, reveling in the anticipation. I pictured his hands squeezing my head, his thumbs entering my brain through my eye-sockets.