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The machines of Welvin have always been moody. Sometimes they ate debit cards. Sometimes they spat soda instead of gas receipts. But now, they've gone too far: the ATMs are printing cryptic rhymes — and the rhymes keep coming true.
First, a fisherman dies in his own net. Then a butcher's apprentice meets a slicer's blade. Each verse is a prophecy, each prophecy a countdown. And when one slip of paper names Frank Peniston — former crossing guard, reluctant detective, and gadgeteer with a Glock that never runs dry — he knows he has until sunrise to outwit poetry itself.
With Ronald scrambling through Welvin like a manic fortune collector and the mysterious Margery Quillman weaving her own dark stanzas, Frank must face the truth: this is no glitch. It's VerseBank™ — a fintech experiment gone homicidal, seeded with Welvin's own poet laureate.
Armed with an improvised Limp Bizkit karaoke disruptor, Madge the 2005 Chevy Malibu, and metaphors sharper than bullets, Frank takes the fight to the ATM hub at dawn. But the system wants his life to balance. And Margery's shadow still lingers in the mist.
From Frankfort Petersén comes Book 13 of the Frank Peniston Mysteries — a satirical, action-packed noir parody where receipts predict death, gadgets are held together with jumper cables, and justice is always payable in overdraft fees.