Showing results for "S." in Hard-Boiled

Irgendwann ist Sense! Faschingsumzug im Vogelsberg: Jubel, Trubel, Heiterkeit, und am Ende wird ein Mann erschlagen. Der Tote war verkleidet: als Tod. Kriminalhauptkommissar Henning Bröhmann passt das überhaupt nicht. Er ist nämlich am selben Tag von seiner Frau verlassen worden und muss nun nicht nur einen Mord aufklären, sondern sich auch um Kinder, Haus und Hund Berlusconi kümmern. Wobei nicht ganz klar ist, was mehr schlaucht: die Suche nach dem Täter, der Alltagskampf mit einer schwer pubertierenden Tochter oder die Strafdienste in der Kindertagesstätte "Schlumpfloch".

Laura Stein ist eine Getriebene. Als Jugendliche ging die junge Kommissarin durch die Hölle und überlebte. Aber die Vergangenheit verfolgt sie bis heute. Unerbittlich jagt sie seit Jahren dem Gangsterboss Victor Hansen hinterher. Um ihn zu stellen, ist ihr jedes Mittel recht. Selbst wenn sie einen Mörder als V-Mann rekrutieren muss: Wolf Berger, Hansens ehemaliger Mann fürs Grobe, frisch aus der Haft entlassen. Kann Laura Wolf überzeugen, für die Polizei zu arbeiten? Und noch wichtiger: Kann sie ihm vertrauen? Denn die beiden verbindet ein dunkles Geheimnis.

Sarah, nosy-but-nice English teaching fellow, and her husband, Alex, are at it again. Due to an unfortunate accident that incapacitates a friend, Sarah's abrasive aunt Julia is offered two free tickets with Whirlaway Tours. After much arguing and little listening, Sarah finds herself serving as Julia's companion for the trip. Eyebrows are raised, however, when the group meets in Boston's Logan Airport and Ellen Trevino, the tour's garden expert, doesn't show. Sarah begins to worry that Ellen's problem may be worse than a delayed connecting flight. As strange clues begin to pile up, Sarah calls home to ask Alex to follow up on Ellen's disappearance.

I'm no music lover and, what's more, I was the rascal they were dying to kill. Me. Shell Scott. "Where there's death, there's hope" - that was gangdom's newest slogan. I was measured for a grave and I was supposed to share it with a gorgeous redhead named Coral.

Shell Scott's mental contemplation was rudely interrupted when his office door was suddenly opened and an unpleasant little man walked in with a .45 caliber automatic pointed right at Shell's midsection. Unknown to Shell Scott, some guy named Sader wanted Shell eliminated permanently. Why, is the question

"....I didn't like it. But hey, that's what I'm hired to do. I deal daily with murder and mayhem. The real problem was when I had to go undercover and UNCOVERED in a nudist camp, or as they called themselves 'naturalist'. Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against naked, especially when it comes in the form of one gorgeous blond tomato, but how did they expect me to protect anyone, when I have nowhere to conceal my gun?"

Returning east for the reading of his first wife’s Will, a desperate man - drunk and down to his last penny - is pushed over the edge when he learns that another man is the sole beneficiary. How far will he go to get what he believes he’s due? And afterwards, will he be able to escape the long arm of the law? Set in 1951 and written in the style of noir master Jim Thompson, Police at the Funeral is the third volume of Ariel S. Winter’s extraordinary debut novel, The Twenty-Year Death.

In 1941 Hollywood, a movie studio hires a down-and-out private eye to watch one of their leading ladies, an actress who thinks she’s being stalked. Is there really a mysterious man after her? After another actress is brutally slain, the detective discovers the truth, uncovering corruption deep within the studio system.

'The scarlet bikini which had covered a minimum of the eye-popping curves on the dead woman, lay at her feet, and my eyes focussed on her as glassily as did the dead man’s next to her. He was dead, all right. He had been shot, poisoned, stabbed, and strangled. Either somebody really had it in for him or four people had killed him. Or else it was the cleverest suicide I’d ever heard of. Me? I’m Shell Scott, private detective and I’m wondering why anybody in his right mind would commit such a complicated murder....'

1931 - The body found in the gutter in France led the police inspector to the dead man’s beautiful daughter - and to her hot-tempered American husband. 1941 - A hardboiled private eye hired to keep a movie studio’s leading lady happy uncovers the truth behind the brutal slaying of a Hollywood starlet. 1951 - A desperate man pursuing his last chance at redemption finds himself with blood on his hands and the police on his trail...

They say that even the strongest man secretly wants to feel wanted. He even hopes to have some woman take care of him. Well, my cup was running over. Me? I’m Shell Scott, the human target for every gun in the State of California. And that’s no private eyewash...I was made to feel wanted all right...by the city, county and state police. And there was a woman with a nasty little .32 in her tiny hand, well she was just dying to take care of me, permanently. Everywhere I turned, somebody was trying to help me plan what to do with the rest of my life....

A rash of hit and run deaths in Los Angeles has the press in an uproar. The police have no clue as to the primary cause and the deceased are all men who appear to have been brutalized prior to the time of the accident. But there are other aspects to the case and Shell Scott has been hired by a not so upstanding night club owner to investigate.

In 1938, English spy Harry Taverner and Jewish photographer Anna Cantrell spend the night dancing at Berlin's most elegant hotel. Anna is married to another man, the Nazi shadow is rising over Europe and neither expects to ever meet again. But once peace is declared, they reunite in the ruins of Berlin, where Anna is searching for her missing children. With the blockade tightening and the Soviets set on conquest, Harry and Anna walk a treacherous line between love and duty, integrity and survival, loyalty and betrayal.

"'I'm trying to get back in shape,'" she said. Man, if her shape got any better she'd be banned for just walking down the street. I'm Shell Scott, private eye, and my job was to guard her day - yeah, and night. I didn't have a chance to discuss these points with her because I saw the man walking toward us. There was only one of him but he seemed to outnumber me. He was so big I was surprised his feet didn't leave holes behind him in the concrete. "Shell Scott," he rumbled. "Shake." I hardly dared....

Shell Scott is hired to help State Senator Paul Hershey gather information against Joe Blake, one of the biggest crooks Los Angeles has ever produced. Joe Blake is the kingpin behind the opposition party to Paul Hershey’s re-election. Blake is backing the candidate against Hershey, a Blake pawn, and using smear and innuendo in an increasingly vicious campaign. Hershey’s only defense against this onslaught is to get the information that will put Blake behind bars. That’s where Shell Scott comes in.

“The strait jacket’s canvas held my arms tight. My six-two was horizontal on a stretcher and the two bruisers carried it and my 205 pounds easily down the long corridor. I was confused as modern art, and being in this stupid asylum didn’t help. I was dumped onto a bed, yelling like a fiend. A needle, a stinging sensation in my neck and it was lights out for me. I awoke with a light beaming upon my face. A blade moved upward through the beam of light. And suddenly I was wide awake, thinking: This idiot is about to stab me! Me? I’m Shell Scott private eye and I’m in a lot of trouble...”

In January, New York City inaugurates its first female mayor. In April, her son disappears. Called in by the mayor’s chief aide—a former girlfriend of private investigator Bill Smith’s—to find the missing fifteen-year-old, Bill and his partner, Lydia Chin, are told the boy has run away. Neither the press nor the NYPD know that he’s missing, and the mayor wants him back before a headstrong child turns into a political catastrophe. But as Bill and Lydia investigate, they turn up more questions than answers.

Candace Starr likes to think of herself as retired since she got out of prison. That's until society maven Kristina Corrigan tries to hire her to permanently remove her daughter's barnacle of a boyfriend, Tyler Brent, from their lives. The only catch? Tyler is 17 years old. Even Candace usually draws the line at taking out a target who doesn't shave yet. But when Tyler turns up dead at a river gorge with a broken neck, people start asking questions. Detective Chien-Shiung Malone, the ambitious cop assigned to the case, has more than a few of her own.

Laura Stein ist eine Getriebene. Die junge Kommissarin ging als Jugendliche durch die Hölle und überlebte. Aber die Vergangenheit verfolgt sie bis heute. Unerbittlich jagt sie seit Jahren dem Gangsterboss Victor Hansen hinterher. Um ihn zu stellen, ist ihr jedes Mittel recht. Selbst wenn sie einen Mörder als V-Mann rekrutieren muss... Folge 4: Victor Hansens Macht schwindet - ein verfeindeter Rockerclub will ihn tot sehen. Hansen macht Laura ein Angebot.

Laura Stein ist eine Getriebene. Die junge Kommissarin ging als Jugendliche durch die Hölle und überlebte. Aber die Vergangenheit verfolgt sie bis heute. Unerbittlich jagt sie seit Jahren dem Gangsterboss Victor Hansen hinterher. Um ihn zu stellen, ist ihr jedes Mittel recht. Selbst wenn sie einen Mörder als V-Mann rekrutieren muss... Folge 2: Wolf Berger legt sich mit einer Gang von Hooligans an. Deren Anführer Johnny Hubschmid hat eine Rechnung mit Wolf zu begleichen. Laura könnte Wolf helfen... doch dafür muss sie ihm vertrauen.