Showing results for "With Scott" in Hard-Boiled

Former Eugene Police Department detective, Paul Adler, has major problems. Officially, he's on an extended administrative leave. Unofficially, he was forced to retire early for conduct unbecoming a police officer. Until he can get reinstated, or until he drinks himself to death, he has taken on private investigations, where his lack of a filter makes him a true Dick. When a woman hires Paul to find her friend, he has a bad feeling about the case. Shortly they find a dead body on the Oregon coast, and now a missing person has turned into a murder investigation.

Frontenac is a corrupt city of vice, sin, and murder. On a rainy day (but what day isn't rainy in that industrial wasteland?) an underage prostitute and a rookie cop are murdered. No one cares. No one lifts a finger. Killebrew cares. Recently returned from the big war overseas, Killebrew has learned a few skills, like how to break things and kill people. He is now determined to use his knowledge to remove anything and anyone standing between him and justice for his kid sister.

A group of criminals in 1946 pull off the heist of the century, stealing a dozen priceless works of art from a Boston museum. But while the thieves get caught, the art is never found. Forty years later, the last surviving thief gets out of jail and goes hunting for the loot, involving some innocent college students in his dangerous plan—and twenty-eight years after that, in the present day, the former college kids, now all grown up, are drawn back into danger as the still-missing art tempts a deadly new generation of treasure hunters.

Christmastime in London. When three seemingly unconnected victims are murdered with matching sequential Roman numerals carved into their foreheads, Metropolitan Police Commander Austin Grant finds his answer in one of the last places he'd expect: the Holy Bible. Each of the deaths correspond to a transgression of one of the Ten Commandments, and Grant must find the killer before the remaining Commandments are commemorated with homicides.

During Burning Man, the annual event of debauchery and independent self-reliance, a woman is found dead in a high-end RV, suspected to have overdosed on drugs. Former sheriff Keenan Fitzpatrick is hired by the woman's boyfriend to discover the true nature of her death. But there are complicating factors. First of all, the boyfriend is an actor who is starring in a detective series filming in the Reno, Nevada, area. Second, the actor is a conspiracy enthusiast who sees a government plot in everything from Bigfoot to Area 51.

When former Reno, Nevada, sheriff Keenan Fitzpatrick wins a free moose hunting trip to Newfoundland, Canada, he is happy to get away from his current job as a casino security officer. Shortly after arriving at the isolated hunting lodge forty miles from the nearest road, a man is shot to death. The other guests and guides immediately recruit Fitz to solve the murder. But without any technology to run background on all of the characters at the lodge, Fitz must rely only on his personal skills to uncover the killer.

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?"

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.

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.

“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...”

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....

'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....'

"'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....

“The greatest crime writer of our time, perhaps ever!” —New York Times Book Review When the all-time greats of mystery/noir/crime fiction are mentioned (John D. MacDonald, Dashiell Hammett, James M. Cain, Robert Parker, etc.), Elmore Leonard’s name invariably tops the list. A true...

Jimmy Veeder has finally settled down, completing his dramatic transformation from hell-raiser to family man. With his new wife, Angie, and eight-year-old son, Juan, he lives the quiet life. No trouble, no problems. Or so he thought. But this is Jimmy Veeder's Fiasco, after all.

He mutilates his victims. Slices their throats. And carves an X into their flesh. Five years ago, he claimed the lives of six women. Then the killings abruptly stopped - no one knows why. Ex-homicide detective Frank Quinn remembers. Which is why he's shocked to see one of the dead women in his...

Dashiell Hammett was a crime writer who elevated the genre to true literature, and The Thin Man was Hammett’s last - and most successful - novel. Following the enormous success of The Thin Man movie in 1934, Hammett was commissioned to write stories for additional films. He wrote two full-length novellas for the films that became After the Thin Man and Another Thin Man.

Jimmy Veeder and Bobby Maves are back at it, two years after the events of Dove Season - they’re not exactly the luckiest guys in the Imperial Valley, but, hey, they win more fights than they lose.

Settled on his own farmland and living like a true family man after years of irresponsible fun, Jimmy’s got a straight life cut out for him. But he’s knocking years off that life thanks to fun-yet-dangerous Bobby’s booze-addled antics - especially now that Bobby is single, volatile as ever, and bored as hell.

Cash and Sheriff Wheaton make for a strange partnership. He pulled her from her mother's wrecked car when she was three. He's kept an eye out for her ever since. It's a tough place to live - northern Minnesota along the Red River. Cash navigated through foster homes, and at 13 was working farms. She's tough as nails, five feet two inches, blue jeans, blue jean jacket, smokes Marlboros, drinks Bud Longnecks. Makes her living driving truck. Playing pool on the side.