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Open Road Media Mystery & Thriller

    JOHN GILCHRISThas quotedlast year
    ‘You said, if I got it right from Fitzgerald, that he was down on his right knee at the edge of the grave.’
    JOHN GILCHRISThas quotedlast year
    When he tried the office it was empty and then Rupert appeared, having noticed him arrive through the glass door of the flower shop.
    JOHN GILCHRISThas quotedlast year
    Since the beginning of history men had come here for one purpose or another, Roman, Saxon, Dane, Norman, but now it was a place of ghosts.
    JOHN GILCHRISThas quotedlast year
    any constable who successfully completed the one year Special Course at the Police College at Bramshill House had to be promoted substantive sergeant immediately on returning to his force, a source of much bitterness to long-serving police officers who had either come up the hard way or were still awaiting promotion
    JOHN GILCHRISThas quotedlast year
    with his small triumph. As the door closed, Grant lit another cigarette and walked to the window.

    A good man
    JOHN GILCHRISThas quotedlast year
    You and the character in the blue coat and fancy cap were standing at the kerb when I came round the corner. Who is he?”

    “A copper, Ben. Detective Sergeant.” Lazer searched his memory. “Miller. That’s it—Miller.”

    “You’re joking,” Garvald said. “I’ve never seen a peeler that looked like him before. What did he want?”

    “You, Ben,” Lazer said.
    JOHN GILCHRISThas quotedlast year
    A man had moved from the shadows and stood beside the staff entrance lighting a cigarette. Brady recognized Chuck Lazer at once, and also remembered that the American was employed as a pianist at the club.

    As the staff door closed on Lazer, Brady leaned back again, shivering as a cold wind moved along the alley, lifting the skirts of his raincoat.
    Kamil Ramazanovhas quotedlast year
    father
    Andrei Zaharkevichhas quoted3 months ago
    FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH and yesterday’s snowstorm lingered in the streets like a leftover curse. The slush outside was ankle-deep. Across Seventh Avenue a treadmill parade of lightbulb headlines marched endlessly around Times Tower’s terra cotta façade: … HAWAII IS VOTED INTO UNION AS 50TH STATE: HOUSE GRANTS FINAL APPROVAL, 232 TO 89; EISENHOWER’S SIGNATURE OF BILL ASSURED … Hawaii, sweet land of pineapples and Haleloki; ukeleles strumming, sunshine and surf, grass skirts swaying in the tropical breeze.
    I spun my chair around and stared out at Times Square. The Camels spectacular on the Claridge puffed fat steam smoke rings out over the snarling traffic. The dapper gentleman on the sign, mouth frozen in a round O of perpetual surprise, was Broadway’s harbinger of spring. Earlier in the week, teams of scaffold-hung painters transformed the smoker’s dark winter homburg and chesterfield overcoat into seersucker and panama straw; not as poetic as the Capistrano swallows, but it got the message across. My building was built before the turn of the century; a four-story brick pile held together with soot and pigeon dung. An Easter bonnet of billboards flourished on the roof, advertising flights to Miami and various brands of beer. There was a cigar store on the corner, a Pokerino parlor, two hot dog stands, and the Rialto Theatre, mid-block. The entrance was tucked between a peep-show bookshop and a novelty place, show windows stacked with whoopee cushions and plaster dog turds
    b6281743919has quoted9 months ago
    left London for the
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