The Big Kiss-Off Of 1944: A Jack LeVine Mystery - Plot & Excerpts
Not an unpleasant drive, to be sure. On a brilliant afternoon in May with a good woman, it’s probably a hell of a way to spend your time. Before dawn, with a whistling blackmailer afflicted with bad breath and the fear that most people wanted to kill him, it was something less than a joyride. “You probably want to know how I got into this racket,” Rubine said as we entered the Palisades Parkway in New Jersey—a right turn off George and Martha Washington’s bridge. He hadn’t said anything until then, about forty minutes, and I’d hoped he was asleep. “Not unless you’re going to tell me about this case, Al.” “I might,” he said, suddenly cheered by the knowledge that he did, after all, have some information of use to me, suddenly feeling like something more than a third-rate shyster on the lam. “I might if you’re good to me.” “What do you want me to do, lick your ear?” He lit up an Old Gold. “Jack, stop being a goddamned hardboiled egg and enjoy yourself.
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