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Lieberman's Day von Kaminsky, Stuart M. (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 31.03.2015
  • Verlag: Bastei Lübbe AG
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Lieberman's Day

When his nephew is killed by a mugger, Lieberman will do anything to bring his family justice. In a posh part of Chicago's North Side, two Trinidadian men look for someone to jump. Waiting outside an apartment building, they see a couple shivering in the cold as they make their way to their car. The Trinidadians draw guns, demand money - and quickly go too far. Shots ring out, and the muggers run. Behind them, the man is dead, and his pregnant wife lays bleeding in the street. The murder victim is the nephew of Abe Lieberman, one of the most dignified cops in Chicago homicide. When he learns of the killing, Lieberman's calm façade cracks. As he works with his partner, Bill Hanrahan, to find the killers, Lieberman makes a pact with the devil - ready to sacrifice everything if it means finding the men who gunned his nephew down in the street. About the Author. Stuart M. Kaminsky (1934-2009) was one of the most prolific crime fiction authors of the last four decades. Born in Chicago, he spent his youth immersed in pulp fiction and classic cinema - two forms of popular entertainment which he would make his life's work. After college and a stint in the army, Kaminsky wrote film criticism and biographies of the great actors and directors of Hollywood's Golden Age. In 1977, when a planned biography of Charlton Heston fell through, Kaminsky wrote Bullet for a Star, his first Toby Peters novel, beginning a fiction career that would last the rest of his life. Kaminsky penned twenty-four novels starring the detective, whom he described as 'the anti-Philip Marlowe.' In 1981's Death of a Dissident, Kaminsky debuted Moscow police detective Porfiry Rostnikov, whose stories were praised for their accurate depiction of Soviet life. His other two series starred Abe Lieberman, a hardened Chicago cop, and Lew Fonseca, a process server. In all, Kaminsky wrote more than sixty novels. He died in St. Louis in 2009. Review quote. 'Beautifully rendered. . . . Kaminsky is extraordinarily attuned to the domestic minutiae of his detectives' lives.' - Chicago Tribune. 'Kaminksy's books just keep getting better. . . . An outstanding story.' - Booklist. 'A standout performance. . . . Nobody writing today can mix taut suspense with a sense of creeping mortality as shatteringly as Kaminsky.' - Kirkus Reviews. 'For anyone with a taste for old Hollywood B-movie mysteries, Edgar winner Kaminsky offers plenty of nostalgic fun . . . The tone is light, the pace brisk, the tongue firmly in cheek.' - Publishers Weekly. 'Marvelously entertaining.' - Newsday. 'Makes the totally wacky possible . . . Peters [is] an unblemished delight.' - Washington Post. 'The Ed McBain of Mother Russia.' - Kirkus Reviews.

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: watermark
    Seitenzahl: 214
    Erscheinungsdatum: 31.03.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9783958594777
    Verlag: Bastei Lübbe AG
    Serie: Lieberman
    Größe: 1226 kBytes
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Lieberman's Day

Two Minutes Past Midnight on a Winter's Night in Chicago

COLD.

The frozen-fingered wind goes mad and howls, beating the lid of the overflowing green dumpster in a metal-against-metal tattoo. Ba-bom, boom-boom.

Through the narrow slit between the concrete of the two high-rise buildings, Lake Michigan, not quite frozen at the shore, throws dirty ice chunks onto the narrow beach and retreats with a warning roar.

"It is cold, man. I tell you. I don't care what you say. I don't care how you say. It is cold."

George DuPelee, his huge body shivering, his shiny black face contorted and taut, shifted from booted foot to booted foot. George wore a knit hat pulled down over his ears and an oversized olive drab military overcoat draped down to his ankles. He was hugging himself with unmatched wool gloves, one red and white, the other solid purple.

Boom-boom.

George grabbed the frigid rusting metal of the dumpster lid and pushed it down on the frozen plastic sacks of garbage inside it. The angry wind rattled the lid in his hand and it broke free. Boom-boom-boom-boom.

"What are you doing?" Raymond whispered irritably, adjusting his glasses.

"Goddamn noise driving me nuts," George whispered back. "I don't like none of this none. I don't like this cold."

George certainly looked cold to Raymond Carrou, who stood beside him in the nook behind the massive garbage cans. Raymond was lean, not an ounce of fat to protect him under his Eddie Bauer jacket, and he, too, was cold; not as cold as George DuPelee, but cold.

It was December in Chicago. It was supposed to be cold. People like George and Raymond didn't come here from Trinidad to enjoy the warm days and cool nights. People came to the States to make a dollar or to get away from something.

George DuPelee was a complainer. Raymond had known George for only a few days and he was now deciding that, however this business turned out, after tonight he would deal no more with the whining giant whose teeth rattled loudly as the two men waited for an acceptable victim to come out of the apartment building.

By the dim light of the mist-shrouded streetlamp, George watched the cars no more than twenty yards away on Sheridan Road lug through the slush, sending sprays of filthy ice over the sidewalk. Sheridan Road at this point north of Lawrence was a canyon of high-rise condominiums through which the wind yowled at the cars that passed through on the way to Evanston going north or downtown going south.

"Tell me you ain't cold," George challenged. "Tell me. Skinny thing like you. Got no fat. Wind go through your bones and you no more used of this than me." George concluded with a grunt of limited satisfaction, pulling his hat more tightly over his ears and continuing his steady foot-to-foot shuffle.

"Cold never bothered me much," said Raymond, watching as the door to the building opened and an old couple came out already leaning into the night as the blast of icy air ran frozen across their faces and down their backs.

"Them, they old, rich, no trouble, no bubble," said George, his bulky body nudging Raymond toward the light beyond the shadows of the buildings and the dumpster.

Raymond watched the old couple struggle against the cold wind. The old man almost toppled over, but caught his balance just in time and moved cautiously forward, gasping through the wind, reaching behind him to pull the old woman with him.

"No," said Raymond, stepping back into the shadow so the old couple wouldn't see him.

"No," moaned George, turning completely around in a circle like a frustrated child. "No. Man, what we come all the way down here for? Places closer. Over back there on Chestnut, you know? Look at those old olds. They got money, rings, stuff. Just take it, throw them old people in the air and let the wind take them."

"Up," said Raymond, his eyes back

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