J.L. Abramo

On an afternoon in early February, the neighborhood is stunned and horrified when the lifeless body of an eight-year-old boy is discovered abandoned on the roof of an apartment building. The body has been mysteriously mutilated. No clues, no witnesses, no apparent reason. When a second boy is found two days later in the same condition, Homicide Detectives Samson, Vota and Murphy of Brooklyn’s 61st Precinct fear that the two boys were victims of the same killer.
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San Francisco private investigator Jake Diamond is known for his stained neckties and stash of sour-mash whiskey; but Jake is more likely to be toting a worn paperback Classic novel than a handgun. More over-easy than hard-boiled, Diamond can be beaten up and knocked around without taking it too personally; but when his friends and loved ones are threatened, it’s a different story.

Lefty Wright had it all figured. In fact he was doing the math as he crawled into the deserted house through the kitchen window. Get to the bedroom, crack open the wall safe, grab the envelope, fifteen minutes. One thousand dollars a minute. Nice score.

What Lefty neglected to factor in were the unknowns. And when the police nab him red-handed and discover the dead body of a prominent Criminal Courts Judge stuffed beneath the bed, Lefty finds himself charged with first degree murder with no shoes, no one believing in his innocence, and one phone call. He calls Jake Diamond.