More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
In fiction, there is always a quantum jump to be made when anyone but a police detective is investigating a murder. I come up against it in my Matthew Hope series. Hope is a lawyer who has no right investigating murders. Disbelief must be overcome, first by the author himself, then by the reader. This isn’t the case with a police detective. He is supposed to investigate murders.
From the river bounding the city on the north, you saw only the magnificent skyline. You stared up at it in something like awe, and sometimes you caught your breath because the view was one of majestic splendor.
The city lay like a sparkling nest of rare gems, shimmering in layer upon layer of pulsating intensity.
The assistant ME went through the ritual of ascertaining the death of a man who was certainly dead.
The photographer worked like the press agent for a hit musical. He circled the star of the show, and he snapped his pictures from different angles, and all the while his face showed no expression, and the sweat streamed down his back, sticking his shirt to his flesh.
She was a girl who could get drunk sniffing the vermouth cork before it was passed over a martini.
