James Headley Chase is an incomparable crime-thriller novelist and the whole world is crazy about his novels. Many of his novels have been depicted as full fledged films. His novels are now included in the Diamond Publications. A series of such novels bubbling with sex, romance, suspense and sensation which make them almost 'unputdownable' once you start reading them! Chase's characters are generally globetrotten who mentally take along the readers with them in their movements in various continents! Suspense built in them is so overpowering that unless you learn the cause of the mystery you feel restless. Now the latest such Chase novel: 'Apni Maut Apne Hath' is in your hands to enjoy a thrilling reading.
René Lodge Brabazon Raymond was born on 24th December 1906 in London, England, the son of Colonel Francis Raymond of the colonial Indian Army, a veterinary surgeon. His father intended his son to have a scientific career, was initially educated at King's School, Rochester, Kent. He left home at the age of 18 and became at different times a children's encyclopedia salesman, a salesman in a bookshop, and executive for a book wholesaler before turning to a writing career that produced more than 90 mystery books. His interests included photography (he was up to professional standard), reading and listening to classical music, being a particularly enthusiastic opera lover. Also as a form of relaxation between novels, he put together highly complicated and sophisticated Meccano models.
In 1932, Raymond married Sylvia Ray, who gave him a son. They were together until his death fifty three years later. Prohibition and the ensuing US Great Depression (1929–1939), had given rise to the Chicago gangster culture just prior to World War II. This, combined with her book trade experience, made him realise that there was a big demand for gangster stories. He wrote as R. Raymond, James Hadley Chase, James L. Docherty, Ambrose Grant and Raymond Marshall.
During World War II he served in the Royal Air Force, achieving the rank of Squadron Leader. Chase edited the RAF Journal with David Langdon and had several stories from it published after the war in the book Slipstream: A Royal Air Force Anthology.
Raymond moved to France in 1956 and then to Switzerland in 1969, living a secluded life in Corseaux-sur-Vevey, on Lake Geneva, from 1974. He eventually died there peacefully on 6 February 1985.
Vic Malloy,private investigator,receives a letter from a millionaire heiress,who dies too soon to inherit.She asks Malloy to investigate the affairs of her wanton half sister.
No sooner does Malloy start to investigate that big time trouble erupts.Multiple murders follow in rapid succession,and all hell breaks loose.
Another hard boiled,non-stop action thriller by James Hadley Chase.Runs true to formula,but moves along briskly.Also,keeps a nice little surprise for the end.
Based in fictional Orchid city this is typical Chase novel. The gripping storyline is fast paced with dollops of nostalgia and old-world charm of readers of modern era. Part detective part thriller, there are no false leads and as a reader you become part of real-world top notch investigate team. Worth every penny that you spend on the book
"Lay Her Among the Lilies," the third and final novel in Chase's Vic Malloy trilogy is an excellent private eye novel. In it, Chase creatively borrows some bits from Chandler's Farewell, My Lovely ( the sanitarium and the gambling boats in Santa Monica harbor - the boats were based on a real event where Earl Warren staged an all-out naval battle to take control of the criminally run ships). Nevertheless, it is a solid, well-paced, exciting book.
Here, Malloy and his crew come upon a case a rather unusual way. No high-powered client waltzed into the office. Rather, a letter was misplaced for fourteen months with a five hundred dollar retainer and now Malloy feels as if he is responsible for following up on the inquiry even if the client is now deceased and the heir has no interest in employing his services. Indeed, when Malloy goes to the estate, he finds not all is right with the world and, indeed, things are quite fishy. What's more is that a tough starts shadowing Malloy and anyone he talks to about the case seems to disappear, sometimes not so gently.
This is a direct sequel to Chase's book "You're lonely when you're dead" and picks up a couple of months after the events in that book. The time is 1948, (and I believe the book was written in or around that time) The place is a mythical city in California aptly named Orchid City. All the cops are corrupt and all the characters in the book start the day with a drink. "I woke up and looked at the clock, it was 10 AM and I wanted a drink, I reached for the bottle of scotch, it was too early for a drink, but, the bottle doesn't know what time it is"
The book, a lovely hardcover, which at the time was priced at $2.50 has an evocative dust jacket of a lovely smoking woman in shadow gazing out an open window at the sea, is a quick read. All the women are beautiful, all the cops are corrupt and the after hours joints are always hopping.
Sadly, I believe this is the second and the last novel Chase wrote with this set of characters. That's too bad.
As fine a mystery thriller as Chase could churn out. Lots of ruthless killings, with a crazed "vacant" well educated woman behind most of it. One cannot but be saddened by the fate of the lovely and willing nurse who likes and frolics with our hero, Vic at first acquaintance. Also for once, Vic gets to somewhat get a bit close to his glacial lady assistant, Paula: "I slid my arm around the back of her neck. She leaned against me and stared moodily down the road at the cabin... And I tried to nibble her ear..." Better than nothing, eh!
A James Hadley Chase book is like a packet of potato chips. Difficult to let go of, once you have started. This book is as zippy as any of his others. I like Chase for his colorful, but simple characterizations - "his mahogany face was as expressionless and as empty as a hole in the wall...", great plots that spiral with incredible speed towards the climax, easy language and faithful reproduction of America in the 70s. His stories are not Booker prize tales but they make for one heck of a satisfying read.
The three Vic Malloy detective novels were published one after the other from 1949 to 1950. The first one, You're Lonely When You're Dead, was a stunning break from the postwar London-based stories JHC had been writing, all of them claustrophobic and dark. His second Malloy novel, Figure It Out Yourself, dropped off quite a bit from the mythic West Coast metropolis and its environs of Orchid City. And this, the third novel, Lay Her Among the Lillies, is yet another step down. JHC seems to have exhausted the potentialities of Vic Malloy pretty quickly. And the last two books simply extend the character into a new set of adventures, each of which is fairly mundane and easily predictable. Two set pieces save the stories, the chase through the mine in Figure It Out Yourself, and the climb up the cliff in this book. And that is enough. Despite it all, JHC still gives you story worth reading. But just to show how lazy he became with this series, you only need to look at the beginning of chapter nine, where Malloy describes the trip to his cabin along the beach. Most of the first paragraph is a word for word repetition of the same passage that appears in the first Malloy novel.
The name of this book is simply irresistible, beautiful, impressionable, cool. However, that is very often the case with our beloved author. This is another of the rather early works of the author. All these early novels are magnificent, mysterious. They often have excellent noir. It feels right between the lines and it's great. I love books that give an unforgettable unique atmosphere of a specific era, time, city, specific society, and so on. In his many years of activity, the author managed to create many series of books about private detectives, or police officers, or outstanding people, or rich people. I believe that absolutely all such series came out from the author extremely successful. This book is one of them. It's about private detective Vic Malloy, Head of detective Agency "Universal service" in Orchid City (fictional city). The tumultuous events in this novel begin after the daughter of one millionaire, Janet Crosby, sends a letter to Vic Malloy's agency stating that Someone is blackmailing her sister. Unfortunately, this letter comes to Malloy's field of vision only a year later, when Janet is no longer alive...
I fully expected to not finish this. I remember being unenthusiastic about No Orchids for Miss Blandish, which I read on George Orwell's recommendation as a "good bad book" in his essay on detective fiction. Somehow or other this was in my library from the days when I was more indiscriminate in my book buying, so I decided to read 50 pages and pass it on.
The first few chapters were surprisingly entertaining, with brilliant noir similes (a la Philip Marlow) that made me guffaw. The plot wallowed in the doldrums briefly, but then riveted my attention, as the detective hero, Vic Morrow, hit his stride, struggling to answer a plea for help in a letter fourteen months old.
Chase has qualities of both Raymond Chandler and Ian Fleming; not as good a stylist as either, but equal if not superior to both in plotting.
Addendum: I reread the Orwell essay mentioned above, called "Raffles and Miss Blandish," and realize my memory of both the essay and No Orchids is inaccurate, to say the least. Orwell hardly recommends the novel, except as evidence of the moral degeneration of the times (circa 1940s), saturated as it is with both amorality and sadism. I can verify, however, that Chase radically altered the nature of his fiction in the ten-year interim between No Orchids and Lay Her Among the Lilies. If the former erased distinctions between good and evil, the latter is a triumphant tale celebrating loyalty and derring-do with only a thin veneer of noir realism.
Orwell's essay is, by the way, a brilliant analysis of 20th century crime fiction, and should be read by all aficionados of the genre.
Un auténtico placer el haber conocido la pluma de este autor, realmente! Una novela con un misterio como los de antes: pistas que llevan a equívoco, personajes que no son lo que aparentan, personajes caraduras pero adorables..... Desde luego el bueno de Vic me ha robado el corazón, qué tipo! Y una de las cosas más geniales de esta novela son las conversaciones del protagonista con su buen amigo Frank, y su forma de hablar: hay comparaciones y metáforas que valen su peso en oro, ja ja ja ja ja. Un humor ácido e irónico, una pizca de acción, unos cuantos misterios y un par de mentiras hacen de esta novela un buen tratamiento anti aburrimiento.
3.5 stars. A thoroughly entertaining mid-2oth century private eye/noir novel, set in "Orchid City," somewhere on the coast between San Francisco and Los Angeles - it would take a better detective than I to figure out exactly where... This third (and final) novel featuring detective Vic Malloy is kind of a cross between the hard-boiled Philip Marlowe novels of Raymond Chandler and the screwball Bill Crane novels of Jonathan Latimer. Malloy investigates the mysterious death - 14 months ago - of socialite Janet Crosby and triggers a couple of murders while uncovering a whole mess of family secrets along the way.
I am a Chase fan and I give positive reviews to his books mostly. This book was definitely readable but the story line was somewhat complicated. Mostly Chase goes with simple story lines. Otherwise a good read. Some of the surprises also looked contrived; like the shooting of Anona's father. The bad guys kidnap Stevens from the restaurant but leave Malloy alone. Why would they do that?
Nějak jsem se při čtení na Rudou žeň namlsal Jamese Hadleye Chase, Angličana imitujícího americké kriminálky a přečet si jeho „třikrátku“ s Vicem Malloeym: Ve smrti je každý sám, Chytrému napověz a Položte ji mezi liliemi. A ano, i když je to ryzí drsná škola, s hláškujícím soukromým očkem, kterého pořád někdo mlátí do hlavy, tak pořád je to zábavná a řekl bych i nápaditá série.
Zajímavý je už jen to, že agentura Vic Malloye pracuje čistě pro pracháče a zařizuje v podstatě cokoliv. Od řešení problémů s policií až po učení dcerušku jezdit. Druhá zajímavá věc, že v prvním příběhů je seznámení s jeho sympatickým týmem detektivů… jehož členové jsou ovšem zabití jako první. I to je zvláštní, že první oběti jsou z řady pátračů, a hrdina neví proč. A drobná odchylka je tu i v tom, že hrdina nemá sekretářku, která je do něj tajně zamilovaná… ale má v podstatě šéfovou, která se ve firmě o všechno stará, aby mužská část sekce mohla nasávat whisky, chodit za ženskýma a nechávat se mlátit. Ale jo, taky tajně hrdinu miluje.
Ve smrti je každý sám, je solidní, klasická detektivka, která začíná drobnými krádežemi a končí haldou mrtvol… a slušně zamaskovaným pachatelem.
Chytrému napověz řadím mezi nejlepší Chaseho romány, hlavně proto, že po půlce nastupuje mohutná akční scéna, která obsahuje únik z jeskyně plné krys, zdrhání před pašeráky, přestřelku, další přestřelku… Žádná z těch akční scén nepřináší nic převratného, ale jak se řetězí, působí to bombasticky. A taky je to detektivka, která sloužila v rodině mé ženy jako takový večerníček při cestách autem… hlavně ta pasáž s krysami.
Plus to má ještě jedno plus. I když to začíná obvyklým obdržením zakázky na vytažení dcery z drogového doupěte, u kterého člověk čeká, že se to nějak zvrtne, tak celá tahle sekvence slouží jen k tomu, aby hrdina mohl někomu dlužit laskavost… a brzo jí musel splatit. Třetí příběh, Položte ji mezi liliemi, přináší taky zajímavou zápletku a spoustu mrtvých (v celé téhle trilogii, když jde hrdina navštívit člověka, který je do případu zapletený, můžete si být jistí, že ho najde mrtvého), ale i hrdinu uvězněné v blázinci, v jedné místnosti s člověkem, co občas jí lidi. A opět je tu souboj s časem… a navíc pak ještě šplhání po útesu a dobývání lodi.
Řešení nejsou zrovna překvapivá, ale nejsou ani urážlivě pitomá a autor kolem nich nedělá zase tak velký čurbes. Vlastně jediné, co mě na téhle knize štvalo, byl překlad. Ne, nebyl z těch, co byste si museli záhadné věty překládat zpátky do angličtiny, abyste pochopili, co tam bylo řečené – ale poté, co jsem četl Za tohle tě dostanu přeložené Tomášem Hráchem, tak jsem si říkal, o kolik by tomhle mohlo být lepší, kdyby se toho chytnul opravdu talentovaný překladatl a ne sice snaživá, ale už zřejmě stará a konzervativní osoba, která většinu hlášek lehce vykastrovala. Jo, pořád to nějak funguje, ale ne tak, jak by mohlo.
Con la ingente cantidad de novelas policíacas que se están sacando en la actualidad, tendemos a olvidar de dónde venimos; es decir, quiénes son los padres del género; este post busca que no se pierda la perspectiva en este aspecto, entre otras cosas porque un buen gusto literario se construye desde el pasado, desde las verdaderas fuentes originales. Y digo esto porque no puedo evitar enervarme al comprobar el montón de medianías que se hacen con el corazón de lectores gracias a campañas publicitarias cargadas de sensacionalismo pero sin mordiente ni buen hacer. Esto es patente día a día desde la publicación de los famosos libros de Stieg Larsson, con el caso de la literatura nórdica; me hizo gracia comprobar las últimas manifestaciones de la madre de la novela negra sueca Maj Sjöwall, creadora de la fantástica serie de Martin Beck junto con su marido Per Wahlöö, de la que pronto haré una retrospectiva aprovechando la publicación completa de todos sus libros; la sueca no se casa con nadie y declaraba, sin complejos: “No entiendo el éxito de la novela negra nórdica: le falta calidad”. Tampoco reconoce que tenga discípulos que sigan su legado: “Los libros que me gustaría leer no existen. Escriben historias medio de amor medio criminal en las que no me reconozco. Los autores ya no se interesan por la política, solo por el dinero. En una historia de amor ponen cuatro cadáveres y un policía y ya está: una novela un poco esquizofrénica. Hay menos compromiso político”. Lo que está ocurriendo es que, con esta vorágine de nuevos títulos, lo nuevo es lo que se lleva, olvidando las raíces; y ocurre no solo en novela negra, sino en todos los géneros,; la mayoría de lectores se enfrasca en la novedad y nunca deja tiempo para recuperar a los clásicos; conclusión final: nunca se lee a los clásicos de cada género y te acostumbras a leer medianías que ponen el listón de lectura a ese nivel, de ahí que cualquier “novelucha” se ensalce a unos límites insospechados teniendo en cuenta la verdadera calidad que atesora. Todo esto sustenta mi tesis de que, lo que falta, es un poco de visión de las obras que estructuraron y dieron la fama y calidad que merecía al género, de ahí que aproveche hoy para ensalzar a tres de estos autores que no deben permanecer en el olvido, más bien, deberían estar en lo más alto, a pesar de las irregularidades que tengan; hablaré de ellos sacando a colación su última novela publicada por aquí: “El atracador de mujeres” de Ed McBain (1926-2005), seudónimo del escritor Evan Hunter con el que escribió muchas de sus novelas policíacas, concretamente, las referentes a la serie que le hizo más famoso, las del Distrito 87. En esas novelas McBain inauguró lo que se dio en llamar “novela coral” y que servía para separarse de las típicas novelas de detectives/investigadores asociadas por defecto al género. Dos son los hallazgos que llevó a cabo en esta serie: 1) El emplazamiento de la comisaría del distrito 87 no está ubicado en una ciudad conocida, en ningún momento se menciona; esta ciudad mítica refuerza la idea de la posible existencia de un cuerpo de policías parecido en cualquier ciudad que conozcamos, es la extensión de este concepto lo que lo lleva a lo mítico y a que nosotros podamos extrapolarlo a cualquier lugar conocido. 2) La mencionada “coralidad”, que consiste, ni más ni menos, en que ningún protagonista lleva la voz cantante como papel principal, sino que todos ellos constituyen, en sí, una coral de secundarios protagonistas, un colectivo sorprendente que puede variar de un libro a otro y en medio de cualquiera de ellos sin que lo veamos venir. Esto es llevado con singular maestría en el primer libro de la saga “Odio” (Cop Hater) (1956) donde los policías empiezan a ser asesinados y no sabemos quién se quedará para las siguientes novelas haciendo gala de suspense y emoción en cada página. Ciertamente puede ocurrir que, al no tener un detective principal, no se logre la necesaria empatía con el lector más típico, pero lo genial de la situación es que el escritor conseguía renovarse en cada novela. “Atracador de mujeres” es una historia bien hilvanada, aunque es bien cierto que se queda un poco atrás del ya mencionado “Odio” o de esa obra maestra posterior que es “Ojo con el sordo”. Lo bueno es que, con suerte podremos ir viendo la evolución que llevó a cabo el autor si las ventas acompañan. “Acuéstala sobre los lirios” de James Hadley Chase (1906-1985), es la última novela publicada del gran escritor inglés de novela negra; clásico entre los clásicos desde la publicación de su excepcional “El secuestro de miss Blandish”, una trama donde la mala leche más hardboiled no ahogaba una trama estupendamente orquestada por el británico. En esta ocasión, tenemos una novela que, aún basándose en elementos clásicos, le sirve para crear una adictiva acción que tiene uno de sus mejores momentos en la parte en que Vic Molloy (el sufrido investigador de circunstancias) es encerrado en un manicomio y cómo saldrá de allí, rodeado por un interno loco y peligroso capaz de matar a una mujer a dentelladas. Es imposible no sorprenderse por los vuelcos de violencia que, en ocasiones, es capaz de mostrar este autor, clasicazo mayúsculo. No dudo que en poco tiempo RBA recuperará para su serie negra la novela que he mencionado anteriormente, mientras tanto podemos disfrutar de esta o de “Un loto para miss Quon” o “Eva”. “Algodón en Harlem” de Chester Himes (1909-1984), y quería dejar para el final a uno de los grandes padres del género; sobre todo porque este escritor de color no dudó en reconocer la influencia que le produjeron Hammet y Chandler, pero, partiendo de ello creó algo totalmente distinto. Sus novelas están ambientadas en Harlem, el barrio de los negros por excelencia de Nueva York y en ellas se respira, se sufre, se huele, se siente lo mismo que ellos. Qué ejemplo de sabor policíaco es el comienzo de esta novela donde se cocinan unas costillas al mismo tiempo que se produce un tiroteo. Los protagonistas, inimitables, son una potencial fuente de problemas. Se ha optado en esta traducción por mantener los nombres en inglés (“Grave Digger” Jones y “Coffin” Ed Johnson), opción muy respetable y correcta, pero, en mi opinión, se pierde la fuerza que tienen sus nombres para el público general que antiguamente los conoció como “Sepulturero” Jones y “Ataúd” Ed Johnson. Como se les describe en el libro te puedes hacer una idea de su magnitud (“Pero él ya se había ido: un hombre alto, duro, peligroso, que necesitaba afeitarse, vestido con un arrugado traje negro y un viejo sombrero del mismo color, con el bulto de una pistola marcándose claramente en el lado izquierdo de su amplio pecho.”). Tremendas humanidades en busca de la justicia, aunque esta tenga que ser a palos, quizá la única forma posible, en boca de “Grave Digger” Jones: “- La población negra de Harlem tiene el mayor índice de criminalidad del mundo. Solo hay tres modos de enfrentarse a ello: hacer que paguen los criminales (y usted no desea eso), pagar a la gente para que pueda vivir decentemente (cosa que no se hará), o dejar que se maten unos a otros, que es lo que queda.” Este es el mundo que refleja en sus obras Himes, y no hay lugar para medias tintas, pero sí, mucho sabor a buena novela negra.
James Hadley Chase, fue un escritor prolífico, pero tan extensa fue su producción literaria como irregular su calidad. Sin embargo durante sus primeros años como escritor, publicó una serie de novelas que lo convirtieron en un autor destacado dentro del género negro criminal.
Acuéstala sobre los lirios es una de esas “novelas imprescindibles” de este autor británico, que supo imitar a los clásicos del hardboiled americano, pero sin ese matiz timorato y gazmoño de los escritores yankis que tenían que hacer frente al conservadurismo de la época.
Publicada en 1950, es la tercera y última entrega de la serie protagonizada por el detective privado Vic Malloy, con la eficiente Paula Besinger y el guaperas Jack Kerman como acompañantes. Se trata de una historia que mezcla los tópicos de la ficción detectivesca norteamericana o hardboiled (millonarias descarriadas, hampones sin escrúpulos, policías corruptos, chantajistas de poca monta) con giros argumentales inesperados y escenas cargadas de tensión propias del género thriller, además de la respectiva cuota de violencia. Una combinación, capaz de generar intriga, acción y suspenso dentro de la trama.
No se puede comparar a Vic Malloy con los grandes detectives del género, ya que no está a su nivel, James Hadley Chase no dotó a su protagonista con rasgos que permitirsen definir su personalidad. Malloy, no es un canalla indiferente como Sam Spade, ni posee la capacidad reflexiva de Lew Archer, carece del aura de caballero andante de Philip Marlowe. Cómo personaje resulta muy plano, pero al tener las cualidades que se le atribuyen a todo héroe de ficción detectivesca: tenaz, valiente, intuitivo, obstinado etc. la impresión general que proyecta es de un personaje correcto.
El autor tuvo el acierto de retratarlo no como un detective, solitario e invencible, sino como un individuo capaz de cometer errores de juicio, que necesita la ayuda y el auxilio de sus colaboradores para resolver sus casos y salir de apuros.
En resumen un hardboiled redondo, emocionante, bien hilvanado y con un buen final. Muy superior a las dos primeras entregas, cuya lectura se puede pasar por alto.
Lay Her Among the Lilies begins with a simple missing persons case—and spirals into a nightmarish world of lust, lies, and layered identities. Our lead man, Vic Malloy, is a private detective who runs the Universal Services Bureau in California—a cool-headed, sharp-tongued operator who thinks he’s seen it all. Until, of course, the woman walks in.
She’s beautiful. Mysterious. Frantic. And she wants Vic to find her missing sister.
What follows is a twisted, cinematic plunge into danger—full of sinister characters, sleazy hotels, mafia entanglements, faked deaths, hidden motives, and—most importantly—a woman who isn’t what she seems. No one is. This is Chase at his noir-iest: a labyrinth of double-crosses and dirty secrets, where every step deeper into the case is like stepping onto thin ice with a bomb strapped to your back.
Vic Malloy, unlike many of Chase’s usual protagonists, is professional but emotionally vulnerable—a man not easily shaken, but gradually pulled under by the seduction and treachery swirling around him. And when the truth finally surfaces, it’s not pretty. It's poetic justice in a trench coat.
🕯️ Personal Recollection: I read this one during a particularly grey, rainy afternoon—ceiling leaking, tea steaming, and one eye on the window as if the femme fatale might stroll in asking “Are you the detective?” The story pulled me in like a current. I remember thinking, “Chase has written a whodunit, but everyone done it.” The vibe was Raymond Chandler meets Satyajit Ray’s Feluda—if Feluda had a drinking problem and too many exes. 😅
I even noted a quote in my journal:
“There are women who walk into a room like a kiss. And leave like a loaded gun.”
In essence, Lay Her Among the Lilies is a noir ballet danced on razor wire, where emotions are real, but truth is always dressed in disguise. It’s about obsession masquerading as love, and justice that’s more about timing than law. Chase doesn't hand you a clean ending—he throws you into the dirt, right beside the lilies.
This is one of those books that gets me scratching my head. It has a great hook — the somewhat slack private eye gives away an overcoat to his janitor, who finds an envelope in the coat with $500 and a plea for help. The catch —the letter is eighteen months old and the author died of a heart attack the very same day. But a case is a case and our hero isn’t keen on giving up the money.
And then — well, this writer simply does not the knack. There are a lot of bodies (both dead and very lively female). The cops are outrageously corrupt. We have a long long long zzzz sequence in a dodgy sanitarium. A gambling ship catches fire. And to top it off, our heroes go rock climbing to catch the villains napping. (Our hero literally leaves his assistant hanging off a maybe impassible to ascend cliff so that he can confront the villains. Sheez.)
Somehow, this is all boring. I imagine what Mickey Spillane could have brought to this plot and sigh.
3,6,* Tựa tiếng Việt: Hãy đặt nàng lên tấm thảm hoa In 1000 cuốn , năm 1994 Người dịch: Văn Thụ NXB Văn Học
Nội dung : Tìm thấy một lá thư gửi cho mình đã hơn một năm bị bỏ quên, thám tử tư Vic Malloy cảm thấy có lỗi và quyết tìm ra điều gì mà khách hàng Janet cần giúp đỡ bất chấp cô đã qua đời Trong quá trình tìm hiểu anh luôn bị cản trở bởi gậy gộc, nắm đấm, bắt cóc và cả bệnh viện tâm thần. Rất nhiều người liên quan đến Janet như cha của cô gái, cô y tá, vị luật sư,..cũng bị chết và mất tích theo. Việc xuất hiện cô em gái cùng cha khác mẹ Maureen khiến mọi việc càng rối rắm. Và rốt cuộc anh cũng tìm ra sự thật cho những chuỗi sự việc quay cuồng đến chóng mặt. Truyện rất thích hợp để thực hiện một bộ phim hành động gây cấn, ly kỳ
This one's another classic masterpiece, again featuring the character, Vic Malloy, Head of Universal Services, Orchid City. When Vic Malloy, finally opens a letter, that lay in the pocket of an old macintosh for 14 months, and was written by Janet Crosby, the millionaire heiress, who died of cardiac arrest, the day it was written, he found $500 with instructions to probe into the affairs of Janet's wayward sister, Maureen. But, however, by this time, Maureen had come into Janet's fortune, with the proviso that she lost all of the money if she became publicly involved in a scandal. On his way to the Crosby mansion, he realised that he was being trailed by a hired gunman, who's orders were to get rid of him, fast.....
Příjemné počtení pro nudné chvilky. Bohužel však nepatří ke knihám, které bych si s chutí přečetla znovu. Příběh je poměrně komplikovaný, přesto si v průběhu lehce domyslíte pravděpodobný konec. Plusové body patří rozhodně originálním scénám. Téměř hororový obraz pobytu v psychiatrické léčebně, patří k jedné z nich. Naopak některé věci zůstávají nedořešeny, jako by se autorovi právě hodily do krámu a přidaly na dramatičnosti, posléze jsou však zapomenuty a zůstávají nevysvětleny. Kniha rozhodně splní svůj účel a to čtenáře zabavit a pobavit, hlubší významy v ní nehledejte...
What another crackerjack from the maestro, Vic Malloy and his side kick Jack Kerman throw themselves in to a hurricane of murder, mystery, kidnapping and blackmail in this nonstop page turner, a real gem and a must read for all his fanatics.....