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Parallel Visions: City of Angels City of Demons ebook and trade paperback available on Amazon (or here).
The question of whether Vance was dead or not became more than academic when he found himself in a bathtub up to his chin in ice water like some forgotten cocktail garnish, a demonic woman standing over him, and no memory of how he got there.
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The Red Rook, sequel to Dispensing Justice and the second novel of Nova Genesis World is now available for Kindle or as a paperback at Amazon.
Read free chapters of Dispensing Justice here (or get it here).
Read free chapters of The Red Rook here (or get it here). -- Fritz Freiheit

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Gun, with Occasional Music

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Gun, with Occasional Music

    Conrad Metcalf has problems. He has a monkey on his back, a rabbit in his waiting room, and a trigger-happy kangaroo on his tail. (Maybe evolution therapy is not such a good idea.). He's been shadowing Celeste, the wife of an affluent Oakland urologist. Maybe falling in love with her a little at the same time. When the doctor turns up dead, Metcalf finds himself caught in a crossfire between the boys from the Inquisitor's Office and gangsters who operate out of the back room of the Fickle Muse. Jonathan Lethem's first novel is a science fiction mystery. It's funny. It's not so funny.

Story Survey

Gun, with Occasional Music by Jonathan Lethem / Harcourt and Brace hardback 1994

There was nothing to it. The Super Chief was on time, as it almost always is, and the subject was as easy to spot as a kangaroo in a dinner jacket.

-- Raymond Chandler


Chapter 1

It was there when I woke up, I swear. The feeling.

It was two weeks after I'd quit my last case, working for Maynard Stanhunt. The feeling was there before I tuned in the musical interpretation of the news on my bedside radio, but it was the musical news that confirmed it: I was about to work again. I would get a case. Violins were stabbing their way through the coral arrangements in a series of ascending runs that never resolved, never peaked, just faded away and were replaced by more of the same. it was the sound of trouble, something private and tragic; suicide, or murder, rather than a political event.

It was the kind of musical ews that forces me to perk up my ears. Murder doesn't get publicized much anymore. Usually it's something you hear in an after-hour place between drinks -- or else you stumble across it yourself on a case, and then you're the lone voice at the bar, telling a story of murder to people afraid to believe you.

But the violins nagged me. The violins said I should get up that morning and go down to my office. They said there was something like a case out there. They set my wallet throbbing.


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