By Dennis Lehane
As richly advanced and brutal because the terrain it depicts, here's the spell binding, darkly unique novel that heralded the arriving of Dennis Lehane, the grasp of the recent noir -- and brought Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro, his clever and difficult deepest investigators weaned at the blue-collar streets of Dorchester.
A cabal of strong Boston politicians is keen to pay Kenzie and Gennaro gigantic funds for a possible small activity: to discover the lacking cleansing lady who stole a few mystery files. As Kenzie and Gennaro study, besides the fact that, this crime is not any usual robbery. It's approximately justice. approximately correct and unsuitable. yet in Boston, discovering the reality isn't only a soiled company ... it's lethal.
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Extra info for A Drink Before the War (Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro Book 1)
Slade awoke her headache was gone; she remained lying stretched out on the seat. Just after sunset, when they were scarcely an hour from the capital, the ticket collector came in, and she sat upright. The man went back out into the corridor and shut the door. Still they did not speak, their heads nodding with the movement of the train as they looked out at the red landscape and the coming of dusk across it. " Mrs. " She shook her head with impatience. "I don't know any more than you do about it.
It was still night-the same night; her stomach burned and her head ached. Dr. Slade was knocking on the door. Suddenly she was fearful that Mrs. Rainmantle 38 would waken. She put her face near the panel of the door and said calmly, "Yes. " It stopped the knocking, and she heard him go back into his room. A moment later she hurried out toward the bathroom, cursing the plants as they rubbed against her face in the dark. Even before she got to the end of the balcony she realized that she was not going to take a shower.
Dr. Slade was knocking on the door. Suddenly she was fearful that Mrs. Rainmantle 38 would waken. She put her face near the panel of the door and said calmly, "Yes. " It stopped the knocking, and she heard him go back into his room. A moment later she hurried out toward the bathroom, cursing the plants as they rubbed against her face in the dark. Even before she got to the end of the balcony she realized that she was not going to take a shower. There would be nowhere to put the flashlight; it would get wet or fall off onto the floor, and she would be there in the dark with the water running over her.
A Drink Before the War (Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro Book 1) by Dennis Lehane