The new novel "Two Thursdays" by C. Martin Stepp explores a fictional underground of drug dealers, thugs, informants and crooked cops in what is otherwise known as a fairly tame Midwestern city. This humorous detective novel outlines the progress of private investigator Hitchcock Brown. Brown is recruited for this task by his good friend, the Cincinnati Chief of Police, Derrick C. Guildford.

At the beginning of the story, Guildford finds himself in an unusual situation. One of his detectives has been "set up" by a cadre of bad actors within his own department. One of the few men in his department that he can trust has now been compromised. The unnamed detective is under investigation by Internal Affairs. Against his better judgment, Guildford enlists the aid of his friend, former prosecuting attorney, Hitchcock Brown. Chief Guildford is concerned about Brown's "unconventional" tactics, but at this point, he is out of options.

"I wanted to try a new approach to telling a detective story," says author Stepp. "Unusual and unexpected things happen in everyday life. Why shouldn't that apply to a detective novel?"

The book navigates some interesting twists and turns as Brown uncovers links to arms dealers, rock bands and crooked cops. Brown himself is forced to go undercover, posing as an incompetent record producer. Chief Guildford has to fight his own instincts just to keep Brown on the case. By the end of the book, Brown and Guildford have employed a cast of unlikely characters, including seedy police informants, the DEA, a crooked cop and a roadie for a rock band that everybody calls "Knucklehead." What originally seems like a collection of unrelated events comes together in a dramatic climax. "Two Thursdays" is the follow-up novel to "Walking Backwards" which introduces Brown and his friend Guildford.

Here is a brief excerpt from "Two Thursdays"

Grildpork told me where I could find Eyepod. I drove to Bond Hill and found him right where he told me he would be. Eyepod was sitting on the edge of a small parking lot next to an empty office building. Eyepod wasn't a drug dealer. He made his money directing users to dealers and then turning around and informing the cops about the users. I don't think he was smart enough to figure out that the first user that got out of prison in ten years was going to kill him. If he had been smart enough to figure that out he would have gotten out of town by now. Today he was sitting quietly nodding his head to the music playing in his ears.

I walked up to him from behind and smacked him smartly on the back of the head. I hit him so hard the left ear bud of his music player popped out of his ear. Eyepod swung around with his feet right in front of me. I stood on his left ankle with most of my weight. Eyepod pulled the right ear bud out and said: €What do you want asshole?€ I shifted my weight and ground his ankle into the asphalt as hard as I could. Eyepod started flailing his arms and screaming. Without getting off his ankle, I leaned over and backhanded him across the face. Hard. He stopped screaming and started whimpering. I stood there on his ankle with a look on my face that said: €I'll hit you again if I have to.€ I think the message had been delivered.

€You're going to tell me all about Bevan.€ I said. I punctuated that short sentence with a little extra push on Eyepod's left ankle.

He said: €Okay, okay. Stop killing my foot, okay?€ I stepped off his ankle and took a stance like a cop to let him know I wasn't about to just let him run off. Between the look on my face and the way I was standing I think Eyepod got that message too. He tucked his left foot in and started rubbing his ankle. I thought I detected some tears coming to his eyes. Eyepod looked up at me and said: €Bevan is crazy. That cop is supposed to be cleaning up the streets. I don't think the police department wanted him to get coke off the street by snorting it all himself. Bevan is just about the craziest cop I ever met before today. You have that prize now.€

I just started laughing and said: €Look son. I am not a cop. If I was a cop the amount of hell that I could bring down on you would be limited. I do have some friends who are cops. One of them would probably let me walk if I mashed your face into this warm asphalt right now. One of my other cop friends is the one Bevan is trying to set up. You are going to help me prevent that.€

Eyepod started crying again. Between his tears he sniveled out: €Bevan's gonna kill me if I tell!€ I placed my left foot on his right ankle. I didn't put any weight on it but I think Eyepod understood that I was going to hurt him again if he didn't tell. Eyepod looked up at me with a kind of weepy frown. He said: €I don't know what he's up to mister. I told you he was crazy. I hooked him up with a dealer. I haven't heard from him since. I was hoping he would just leave me alone. I don't want to be involved with any crazy cops.€

I took my foot off Eyepod's right ankle and said: €You don't want to be involved with any crazy private investigators either.€ I was pretty sure I had gotten most of whatever story Eyepod had to tell. I asked him who the dealer was that he had hooked Bevan up with. Eyepod started shaking and crying again. I took two steps closer to him just to let him know I expected an answer. Eyepod sniveled out a name.