By R. J. Ellory
By award-winning mystery heavyweight R.J. Ellory, this formidable crime novel takes his ability for suspense to a spellbinding level.
whilst Catherine Ducane disappears in New Orleans, the police officers react fast--she is the governor's daughter, finally. however the case fast grows strange.
Her bodyguard turns up horribly mutilated, and while the kidnapper calls, he does not wish cash: he wishes time by myself with a minor executive functionary. by the point the items fall into position, it truly is already too overdue . . .
A Quiet Vendetta is either the epic tale of 1 mobster's life-- starting from Cuba to Chicago-- and both a strong mystery of rage, love, and loss. With stress to check the easiest of Cussler, Patterson, and his personal best-selling paintings, A Quiet Vendetta confirms R.J. Ellory's position on the leading edge of the style.
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Additional resources for A Quiet Vendetta
Heat blistered at ninety, tortured through ninety-five, and when a hundred sucked the air from parched lungs they called it a nightmare and stayed home from work to shower, to wrap split ice in a wet towel and lie on the floor with their cool hats pulled down over their eyes. The Examiner man walked down. Early forties, name was Jim Emerson; he liked to collect baseball cards and watch Marx Brothers movies, but the rest of the time he crouched near dead bodies and tried to put two and two together.
He drifted for a while, the window wide, the sounds and smells of New Orleans drifting back into the room with the faintest of breezes. You had to live here to understand, you had to stand there in Lafayette, out in Toulouse Wharf, there in the French Market as you were jostled and shoved aside, as the ripe odor of humanity and the rich sounds of its brutal rhythms swarmed right through you . . You had to do these things to understand. This was the Big Easy, the Big Heartacher. New Orleans, where they buried the dead overground, where the guidebooks recommended you walk in groups, where everything slid over-easy, sunny-side down, where the Big George fell on eagles nine times out of ten.
He reached into his coat pocket, took out a packet of bad-smelling Mexican cigarettes and lit one. ’ he asked Verlaine. ’ Verlaine shook his head. ’ Emerson nodded matter-of-factly. ’ He returned to sit at his desk and looked over his own notes. ’ Emerson shrugged. ‘The car maybe. ’ ‘A ’57 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser. That’s over at one of the lock-ups. ’ Verlaine asked. Emerson shook his head. ’ Verlaine reached for a chair against the wall, dragged it close to the desk and sat down. ‘Guy got the living hell knocked out of him.
A Quiet Vendetta by R. J. Ellory