The heroes of the city's streets are becoming the hunted. When Detective Reardon is found dead, motive is a big question mark. But when his partner becomes victim number two, it looks like open-and-shut grudge killings. That is, until a third detective is killed. Swift, silent and deadly, someone is picking off the 87th Precinct's finest, one by one. The how of the killings is obvious: three .45 shots from the dark add up to three very dead detectives. The why and the who are the Precinct's big headaches now. With one ...
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The heroes of the city's streets are becoming the hunted. When Detective Reardon is found dead, motive is a big question mark. But when his partner becomes victim number two, it looks like open-and-shut grudge killings. That is, until a third detective is killed. Swift, silent and deadly, someone is picking off the 87th Precinct's finest, one by one. The how of the killings is obvious: three .45 shots from the dark add up to three very dead detectives. The why and the who are the Precinct's big headaches now. With one meagre clue, Detective Steve Carella begins his grim search for the killer, a search that takes him into the city's underworld to a notorious brothel, to the apartment of a beautiful and dangerous widow, and finally to a .45 automatic aimed straight at his head ...
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I have to say there was only one thing about this book that I didn't like and that was being able to see the culprit early on. However that was a minor gripe and it's not unusual to know who did it. Most of McBain's books are the epitome of "how done it" rather than "who done it." Others have followed in McBain's footsteps and some of them quite well, but no one has bettered McBain.
