Return to Sender
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
"Alex Glauberman is a forty-year old divorced father of one who fixes foreign cars for a living and is in the midst of chemotherapy. He likes to take things apart and put them back together, and he’s emotionally and chemically influenced to follow out his fantasies more than he otherwise might. So it is with growing excitement that Alex becomes involved with a stranger in a post office -- Gerald Meyer, an older, sadder man who asks him to mail a package and then, desperately, wants him to intercept it before the recipient can find out what’s inside. And then, very close to Alex, Meyer turns up dead, sending Alex off on a search for package, perpetrators, and to prove his own innocence, an adventure that takes him London and to Berlin in the last years of the Wall. Along the way he is plunged into the wreckage of Gerald Meyer’s life, a wake that includes a grown daughter, half-German and half-Jewish, as well as an underworld network, unusual banking transactions, blackmail, shadowy neo-Nazis, and a city in which, as Meyer’s daughter puts it, “Under all the showy stuff, Berliners are frightened of so many things.” All the while, he must contend with police detectives in two countries, doling out and seeking bits of information while explaining his actions with metaphors such as the Yiddish meaning of his family name. And he must try to reassure his own young daughter -- and his new British sweetheart -- that he is a better, more devoted, and more careful man than the one in whose life and death he has become enmeshed. This is the book that kicked off Cluster’s Alex Glauberman series, leading Publisher’s Weekly to declare him “a writer to watch,” and Tony Hillerman to say that he “raises the mystery to the realm of literature.”
good return, and introduces people that need to be introduced, and suggests the shadiest trial judges and the most discreet shipping firms, contributes to political campaigns, prepares analyses for potential investors…” “You’re telling me Jack Moselle sits way up high in a bank building in London and does all that?” “How should I know? I’m telling you that all those functions must get done by somebody. He’s the honcho of Interface, and the people I talked to said that both he and it have popped
followed the path to an old iron gate, open. Inside it he saw a clearing with a small stone hut and several long rows of gravestones. The gravestones were crowded together like too many dominoes in the hand of a losing player. An attendant emerged from the hut just inside the gate. He wore nondescript brown pants and a brown jacket over a white dress shirt, collar open and no tie. A black skullcap perched on his off-blond hair. “Leider habe Ich kein Hut,” said Alex. “Kein yarmulke.” “Moment,
modern and efficient, where above all they had good telephone connections to the West. He approached a young woman reading a paper, one of the few passengers waiting for a train toward the city center. “Excuse me.” He unfolded his tourist map in front of her. He asked her where one could find international cuisine, the sort of place foreign businessmen might go for an expensive dinner. “Why?” she said in English. “Are you inviting me?” “No, I didn’t mean…” “Oh,” the woman said. She wore high
Joanna Connor a partner, or a fall guy, or both, on top of whatever Trevisone knew. In any case, Meyer had gone to meet her, Friday night. He wasn’t pleased with what he’d done that day, and he wasn’t expecting her to be pleased, either. Drinking, alone and morose, waiting for her, he had remembered that her name rested next to his in the cemetery book. Only there, maybe, and nowhere else. He had found it pleasing, when pressed by Kim, to hand Alex that information in the form of a small puzzle.
Alex at Home Dedication Acknowledgments How About a Free Book? Guarantee The Next Alex Glauberman Mystery Also by Dick Cluster A Respectful Request About the Author