Ten Plus One (87th Precinct Mystery)
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Here is the 87th Precinct in all its gritty, glory--rough cops, arrogant criminals and the unrelenting pressure of a city of murder and deceit. An expanded republishing program provides the best of the McBain backlist repackaged. Reissue.
will you? You make me nervous.” Cindy sat down abruptly and plunked her books on the desktop. For a nineteen-year-old who had seen and heard all there was to see and hear, she looked very much like a nine-year-old at that moment. “Well,” Cindy said, “if the same man killed my father and that other man, and if he’s a sniper, then I think you ought to consider the possibility that he may be sexually motivated.” “We will indeed.” Cindy rose abruptly and began picking up her books. “You’re
gentlemen.” “The girl was forty-one years old when she died,” Meyer said. “We can assume…” “Died?” Miss Moriarty asked, and she raised her eyebrows slightly. “Yes, ma’am,” Meyer said. “She was killed last night.” “Oh,” Miss Moriarty nodded. “Then this is serious, isn’t it?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Oh. Well, now, let’s see. If she was forty-one years old—most of our students begin at eighteen, which would make this twenty-three years ago. Do you have any idea which college she was enrolled in?” “No,
it, and the murderer seemed to have disappeared. On Sunday, May 6, two detectives from the 12th Precinct, near the Calm’s Point Bridge downtown, decided it would be a good idea to look up Frankie Pierce. Carella had mentioned the name casually to them, as that of an ex-con who had once been a client of Randolph Norden. He had also mentioned that, in view of later developments, it seemed to him Pierce was clean, and not worth picking up. But the two detectives from the 12th were detectives/1st
“Would you happen to know whether Margaret Buff ever married?” “Margaret who?” “Buff. She was in the play, too.” “No. I don’t remember her.” Two patrolmen wandered into the squadroom, went to the files, opened them, looked at Helen Vale where she sat with her legs crossed, and then went to the water cooler, where they drank three cups of water each while watching Helen Vale where she sat with her legs crossed. As they were leaving the squadroom, four more patrolmen wandered into the room.
mean it. When I was in the Navy, nobody even dreamed there was gonna be a war. And then, when it did come, I was too old. I’d have been proud to fight for my country.” “Why?” Redfield asked. “Why?” For a moment, Miscolo was stunned. Then he said, “Well…for…for the future.” “To make the world safe for democracy?” Redfield asked. “Yeah. That, and…” “And to preserve freedom for future generations?” There was a curiously sardonic note in Redfield’s voice. Miscolo stared at him. “I think it’s