Harry Stoner is a private eye in the classic tradition: A loner with a history of failed relationships with women and all-too-successful relationships with bottles of scotch, he's unable to look away from the world's corruption, and unable to avoid trying?futilely?to do something about it. His la...
She was perfect. She smelled of toothpaste, talc, and something sweeter than lilacs. And in that crazy season of autumn, when Cincinnati was ablaze in the blood-red color of fall, Kate Davis made Harry Stoner feel old, and a little in love too. But for Harry Stoner those were only two more reason...
Jonathan Valin. Fire Lake. New York: Delacorte Press, [1987]. First printing. Octavo. 254 pages.
. . I took the one to the right, which put me back on Camargo Pike, heading south. I'd been driving through Indian Hill for better than ten minutes, trying to find a little side street called Woodbine Lane. The woman who'd phoned me early that snowy Sunday morning had said to watch for an antique...
Since he figured I was thinking it, he wanted me to say it. "Mason’s bisexuality probably was a factor in the investigation," I admitted. "How could that be in this great land of ours‘?" Sullivan said sarcastically. "The home of the brave?" I wasn’t in the mood for a civics lesson from Ira Sulliv...
Laurel had a firm, athletic body, and she was expert at using it. A little too expert, I thought when we were done. The lovemaking wasn't exactly by the numbers, but she did order everything on the menu, like a teenage kid trying to impress his date. She'd impressed me, all right. She'd also worn...
"All right. I'll have a drink with you. But I'm not doing it for Frank Glendora or for United. I'm doing it for a dead friend." The way he talked, I had the feeling that most of his friends were dead. I arranged to meet him at the Belle Vista at eleven, then dressed and went down to the Marquis l...
"But, yeah, Tommy was -professionally speaking. It's how he made pocket money. Every week or two he'd go down to the Ramrod or Fourth and Plum and sell it to some poor john. I knew he was doing it, and I wanted him to stop. But just try and tell Tommy anything. Just try! You end up with a broken ...
Gregory to where I'd parked the Pinto. Out on the river a barge horn sounded one long, melancholy blast. The girl hooted back at it in a graceful, jazzy soprano, pirouetted on her high heels, and flapped her long arms like a water bird taking flight. She came back to earth with a carefree laugh, ...
I don’t know how much of the trash you hear on the streets can be trusted, but the Cobras are said to be enforcers. There’s no question that Chico is a mean little man." "O.K.," I said. "Let’s backtrack a little. Two days ago, I was taking pictures of people going in and coming out of the club." ...