Only Child
Andrew Vachss
Language: English
Pages: 304
ISBN: 1400030986
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
It’s been years since Burke has been home, years since he’s seen his “family” and worked in the underbelly of New York City. Although his appearance has changed, his reputation grown dusty and his wallet thin, his skills and his crew remain razor sharp. So when he is contacted by a mob boss to investigate the murder of his illegitimate daughter, Vonni, Burke takes the job and begins searching for an unspeakably brutal killer.
Posing as a casting director looking for tomorrow’s stars, Burke reaches out to the high school students who knew Vonni, and may know the identity of the killer. Before long he unearths a perverse enterprise—a young director pursuing a brutal new type of cinema verité.
The Boy Who Followed Ripley (Ripley, Book 4)
The Mystery at the Moss-Covered Mansion (Nancy Drew Mysteries, Book 18)
Design for Murder (Murder She Wrote, Book 45)
ain’t like running niggers through New Jersey.” Michelle raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. Caught my return look in time. “If they were all in the same place...” the Mole finally spoke. “All of the cargo, sure, Mole. But not all of the snakeheads.” “So?” he asked, mildly, eyes calm behind the Coke-bottle lenses. “Ah,” Mama said, approving. The Prof nodded. We all knew what one of the Mole’s little gas globes could do in an enclosed space. “But when they...the smugglers...when they came
nothing like blackmail. Sure, I sent money. I figured the pictures was her way of telling me that kids need things. Like...a school picture, okay? That maybe meant the kid needed stuff for school, you see what I’m saying?” “Yeah,” I said, just to let him know I was listening. “They lived out on the Island. Got her own house. I...helped her with that. Money, I mean. But Hazel, the mother, she always worked. She never went near the Welfare,” he said, completely unaware of the pride in his voice.
deep enough to let me know he was carrying heavy. I held the engine against the brake just a little past idle, quiet as a turbine. We both left on the cross street’s yellow. He got out first, but I drove around him just before the Torqueflite grabbed second gear on its own. The Nova’s driver passed me as I backed off, made a “Follow me!” gesture out his window. In the diner’s parking lot, I got an invite to a not-yet-completed section of the LIE, where they were running for money. Later that
hadn’t the cops come up with anything? My first thought was that maybe it was one of their own, but I tossed that out quick. The blue wall crumpled a long time ago. Coast to coast, from Abner Louima to Rampart Division. Too many cops had worked Vonni’s case, from too many jurisdictions, for it to have stood a coverup. What I really needed was to do my own interviews. Not just with Vonni’s friends; with her whole culture. I was about thirty years too old to go undercover. I had to make them to
victim was in bold black type beneath his photo. Vincente “Colto” Zandrazzi. I was still watching television, thinking maybe the late news would have more on the killing, when the connecting door between our rooms opened and Rejji crawled in. She came over to where I was sitting, said, “Cyn told me I had to—” “You don’t have to do anyth—” “I need to tell you a secret,” she said. “Please?” “Rejji, I don’t want—” “I know. Please...?” “What?” She crawled over to the TV set, poked around