Caper (Stanley Hastings, Book 17)
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The latest in the beloved Stanley Hastings series—the unlikeliest private eye in New York City, who doesn't even carry a gun
Poor Stanley Hastings. After getting hired by a hitman and nearly getting shot, the put-upon PI needed some fun, so when a gorgeous damsel in distress walks through his office door she seems just what the doctor ordered.
The fair maiden turns out to be a married mom who wants Stanley to find out why her teenage daughter is skipping school. Playing truant officer isn't exactly Stanley's idea of fun, but at least it should be easy.
Stanley being Stanley, nothing goes right, nothing is as it seems, bodies start to pile up, and faster than you can say 'fall guy,' guess who's left holding the bag?
I gotta get her away. The problem is, she won’t want to come.” “Poor choice of words.” “Get your mind out of the gutter. She won’t wanna go, so how can I bring her home?” “That is a problem.” “Unless you wanna come with me. I bet you could take her.” “Sorry. Not my style.” “So I need a mickey.” “You know what a mickey is?” “Yeah. Chloral hydrate. I had it once for an EEG.” “You had an EEG?” “Yeah. They give you chloral hydrate to make you sleep.” “Why’d you have an EEG?” “See if
say, once was funny, but if you’re going to make this a regular thing …” MacAullif slammed his fist down on his desk. “Don’t fuck around. What did I tell you about the congressman?” “He may have been accepting bribes.” “Don’t play dumb. It’s typecasting, and you’re still no good at it.” “Hey. I used to be an actor. That’s just cruel.” “You wanna see cruel? Stick around. I’ll show you cruel.” “To what do I owe this ill humor?” “The Congressman Blake case.” “Oh, good. I have nothing to do
I’m not going to let him know?” “That was yesterday?” “Yes.” “You haven’t heard from him since?” “No.” “You try to call him?” “I called him, he wasn’t in.” “You leave a message?” “Yeah, but he didn’t call back. It wasn’t urgent.” I hung up on the attorney, gave the client a call. Got the answering machine. I didn’t leave a message. I hung up and called Alice. “Wanna look up Leslie Hanson’s address?” “Why?” “He’s not answering his phone.” “Maybe he’s not home.” “It’s a cell phone.”
claim someone else could have gotten in. The doorman claims he couldn’t. No reason not to let you guys duke it out.” “You expect me to get him to admit he’s wrong?” “I think you might trip him up. It will be fun to see you try.” The phone rang. She scooped it up, said, “Yes?” Listened, said thanks, and hung up. “Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. How’s that sound.” “Great,” I told her. 48 I WAS TOTALLY SCREWED. NEXT MORNING AT TEN O’CLOCK the doorman would come walking into ADA Reynolds’s office
identified me as going up to your apartment the day your husband was killed. I dispute his version of the events, and I’ve challenged him to pick me out of a lineup. You’re the lineup.” “You’re out of your mind,” Sharon’s father said. “We don’t have to put up with this.” “No, you don’t. But if you refuse, your refusal becomes a matter of record. And then the police will take an interest in you when they find they have nowhere else to go.” He turned angrily on the attractive ADA. “You said we