Fuzz (87th Precinct, Book 22)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
-- In Fuzz the 87th Precinct is up against the Deaf Man, master criminal. In a race to stop a string of brutal murders, cops work overtime walking the frozen streets, lying in stinking alleyways, making calls, tapping phones, and wearing disguises, to catch a killer from preying on more victims...including themselves!
brass numerals 31 on it, and fished into the pocket of her apron for a key. Down the hall, a door opened a crack and then closed again. “Who’s that?” Hawes asked. “Who’s who?” the landlady said. “Down the hall there. The door that just opened and closed.” “Musta been Polly,” the landlady said, and unlocked the door to 31. The room was small and cheerless. A three-quarter bed was against the wall opposite the door, covered with a white chenile bedspread. A framed print was over the bed. It
throw them down the stairs,” Tino said. “The arms or the whole hustler?” Meyer asked. “I got no sense of humor,” Tino said. “Me, neither. Buzz off, you’re ruining my game.” “Don’t try to take nobody, mister,” Tino said. “This’s a friendly neighborhood pool hall.” “Yeah, you sure make it sound very friendly,” Meyer said. “It’s just we don’t like hustlers.” “I got your message three times already,” Meyer said. “Eight ball in the side.” He shot and missed. “Where’d you learn to shoot pool?”
I’m running here,” Lieutenant Byrnes said, “when two experienced detectives can blow a surveillance, one by getting made first crack out of the box, and the other by losing his man; that’s a pretty good batting average for two experienced detectives.” “I was told the suspect didn’t have a car,” Meyer said. “I was told he had taken a train the night before.” “That’s right, he did,” Kling said. “I had no way of knowing a woman would be waiting for him in a car,” Meyer said. “So you lost him,”
said?” “Not in so many words. He just hinted.” “Yeah, the son of a bitch.” “So what do you think?” La Bresca asked. “Man, there’s big money involved here,” Calucci said. “You think I don’t know?” “Why cut him in after we done all the planning?” “What else can we do?” “We can wash him,” Calucci whispered. The girl was taking off her clothes. The four-piece ensemble in the orchestra pit rose to heights of musical expression, a heavy bass drum beat accentuating each solid bump as purple
him to risk his life trying to apprehend a suspect, do you?” “Well,” Carella said, and smiled. “Do you?” Genero persisted. “Everybody starts out as a patrolman,” Carella said gently. “Oh, sure. It’s just you think of a patrolman as a guy directing traffic or helping kids cross the street or taking information when there’s been an accident, things like that, you know? You never figure he’s going to risk his life, the run-of-the-mill patrolman, anyway.” “Lots of patrolmen get killed in the