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“Leonard delivers a certifiable masterpiece of such twisted ingenuity that he transcends even his own bad self….Tishomingo Blues is that good.”
Crime fiction Grand Master Elmore Leonard heads to the Deep South for a bracing dose of Tishomingo Blues—a wild, Leonard-esque ride featuring gamblers, mobsters, murderers, high divers, and Civil War re-enactors that the New York Times Book Review calls, “Leonard’s best work since Get Shorty.” Sparkling with trademark “Dutch” Leonard dialogue so sharp it could cut you, Tishomingo Blues is classic mystery, mayhem, and gritty noir fun from “the coolest, hottest thriller writer in America” (Chicago Tribune).
William Rogers, KIA, shot seven times as he stormed the redan." "Who won?" "The Federals pushed them back. I reminded Walter of Corinth. Also the fact that Brice's Cross Roads was two years after Shiloh and Corinth. Not that it matters, but I felt I should mention it. Well, then Billy Darwin heard about it. Right away he saw it as a promotion, a minor reenactment but a major annual tourist attraction. The crowd gets tired of standing in the hot sun and comes in the casinos to play the slots."
"You came here," Dennis said, "knowing about the reenactment." "Yes, I did." "Planning to take part in it. And studied up on the Civil War." "I already had. I did look up Brice's Cross Roads." "Learned enough to sound like an expert." "The key to being a good salesman." "What're you selling?" "Myself, man, myself." "You never mentioned the reenactment before." "You never asked was I interested." "What's a farb?" "Man that isn't hardcore about it. Wears a T-shirt under his polyester
it's major work when they have to pull the head off the engine." Darwin didn't ask what was wrong with it. All he said was, "So the life of a daredevil isn't all cute girls and getting laid." Sounding like a nice guy while putting you in your place, looking down at what you did for a living. Dennis had never said anything about getting laid. What he should do, ask Billy Darwin if he'd like to climb the ladder. See if he had the nerve to look down from up there. 2
or whatever else had anything to do with him. John Rau brought his ID case from the inside pocket of his navy-blue suitcoat and showed Traci he was with the Criminal Investigation Bureau. He said, "I don't hand out tickets and I'm not one to party, so. .." He flipped the case closed as the bartender approached shaking his head. John Rau nodded, accepting it, as Traci was telling him she collected ashtrays, had ashtrays from all the casinos, from places in Memphis, Jackson, Slidell, New
don't think to shoot us. Maybe scare us so we go home." "We gonna see you tomorrow," Arlen said, "when we do Brice's, and run you off with rifle butts and bayonets." Hector said, "And swords?" "You want to sword-fight?" Arlen said. "I got a sword. Shit, we'll do 'er any way you want, Pancho." Hector turned to Tonto again. "You hear this guy?" Tonto only shrugged. But then the one with the stained beard said, "Where's the nigger at?" Tonto looked at him and said, "He left. He went to fuck