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The gang was restless, just looking for idle fun. They roughed up a man they thought was a homosexual—but their game got out of hand and their victim was blinded.
It was Paula Halstead’s bad luck to witness the attack and catch a glimpse of one of the boys. After they got through with her, she killed herself.
The police have no leads and can’t find the culprits. Paula’s husband hires a private investigator to do what the police haven’t been able to-with no success.
Curt Halstead refuses to give up; he will have his vengeance on the men who raped and tortured his wife, even if it means entering into their world of sex, violence, and murder.
When Sam Spade gets drawn into the Maltese Falcon case, we know what to expect: straight talk, hard questions, no favors, and no way for anyone to get underneath the protective shell he wears like a second skin. We know that his late partner, Miles Archer, was a son of a bitch; that Spade is sleeping with Archer’s wife, Iva; that his tomboyish secretary, Effie Perine, is the only innocent in his life. What we don’t know is how Spade became who he is. Spade & Archer completes the picture.
1921: Spade sets up his own agency in San Francisco and clients quickly start coming through the door. The next seven years will see him dealing with booze runners, waterfront thugs, stowaways, banking swindlers, gold smugglers, bumbling cops, and the illegitimate daughter of Sun Yat-sen; with murder, other men’s mistresses, and long-missing money. He’ll bring in Archer as a partner, though it was Archer who stole his girl while he was fighting in World War I. He’ll tangle with a villain who never…[more]
32 Cadillacs is the fourth novel in Joe Gores’ delightful series about the San Francisco private eye firm Dan Kearny Associates. This time the squadmust recover 32 cadillacs stolen from their largest client by Gypsies to be a casket for their dying king. The result is a fast, furious, funny, nonstop action tale with esoteric Gypsy lore and hard-edged investigation.
From Chinatown’s dark alleys to the fog-shrouded Golden Gate, crooked politicians ran San Francisco. To Hammet, retired Pinkerton detective and struggling writer, it was all just grist to his fictional mill. Until the night his pal walked into a baseball bat. Then Hammett hung up his typewriter, put on his gumshoes and went out into the brawling, swaggering city to find the brutal murderer.