He was a tall, cleanly attractive young man, the kind you'd like to have for a neighbor. Press the wrong button and he'd mow you down with the ruthlessness of a Sherman tank. His name was Daniel Port. He was a gangster, the brain and spirit behind the machine that milked the dirty pennies from the city. Now Port wanted out. He had a bellyful of corruption, a one-way ticket to New York, and a dark, shining girl to go along with it. The problem was to get there alive, because the one way out for Daniel Port was over his own freshly dug grave...

Vera Caspary, the famed author of Laura , gives us another gripping crime drama, told through shifting points of view. John Ansell, young and idealistic editor of Truth and Crime magazine, wants to breathe new life into the stale and formulaic publication. Instead of rehashing a story that's already been proven popular elsewhere, he finds a fresh one: the murder of Warren G. Wilson, famed figurehead of a correspondence course. The murder itself isn't too remarkable--just a bullet in the back--but the victim is another case, as it becomes apparent that despite having a household name, nothing is known about him. Perhaps even more peculiar is how Ansell's boss absolutely refuses to run the story and, soon thereafter, Ansell is poisoned. Caspary masterfully allows the truth to slowly untangle in this incredibly woven mystery, finally available as an ebook.

Pander wore dark glasses and fancy suspenders and he moved into the San Pietro rackets like a sandblaster gone berserk. Fell, the boss, was mysteriously away, and Pander grabbed the chance to bury his hands in the heavy money. Then Fell came back. At his side was Cripp, the human adding machine with the beautiful face and the twisted leg. With them came murder... wholesale.

Charley's Rope was about frayed out. The caribinieri were after him, he had a bullet in his hip and no goddamn passport. Charley needed a passport bad. He needed that intricate piece of paper--signed, sealed, and innocent looking--the way only a G.I. in italy could need one. A G.I. deserter with a sweet fortune in blackmail lire and the carabinieri lusting to lay hands on him...

The Big Fix by Ed Lacy Author of the 1958 Edgar Award-winning novel Room to Swing! On the night Irish Tommy Cork's murder was planned, nothing very much out of the ordinary happened. Tommy was in the ring, taking a pasting-as usual. Back to the ropes, almost sitting on the second strand, Tommy crouched, gloved hands up in front of his face like a leather fence. He was fighting a strong youngster who was now whaling away with both hands in a moment of wild enthusiasm. Most of his blows were blocked, or ducked by Tommy's weaving head, but those few that didn't miss landed with loud thud sounds on the kidneys, head, or in the stomach, visibly shaking up the pale "old man."

KILL THE BOSS GOOD-BY Tom Fell, the boss, is gone, and Pander has temporarily taken over the rackets in town. He's got some ideas of his own how the bookies should be operating. The business needs some fresh blood. Then Fell is back, back from his rest at Desert Farm where Dr. Emilson has been treating him for manic depression; back with Cripp, his right-hand man. Fell knows he's been gone too long, that Pander has stepped in and made some changes. Pander thinks he's got the big bosses behind him, but what he doesn't know is that Fell may be manic, but he knows what he wants--power. And nobody is going to stop him from taking it. MISSION FOR VENGEANCE Eight years ago they were running guns, then something went wrong and they were all running for their lives. Farret spent some time in a South American prison but now he's back and out to even the score. One of the four betrayed him, and Farret knows you got to keep the score even on these things. John Miner owns a ranch and is engaged to Getterman's daughter, Jane. He's the first to find out about Farret. But Farret isn't interested in Miner yet. First he's got to settle with Lena; and after that, Metz. And if it isn't Metz who set him up, Getterman is next. But sooner or later, it all comes down to Miner. Miner brought him into the group--and his is the biggest score to settle of them all.

Death By Deadline is a mystery thriller that takes you deep into the heart of local TV News, with heroes, villains, and a look at how the battle to be first with a story can climax in unbelievable catastrophe. Can local news kill people? That's the essential question as the author takes you through a mosaic of politics. the underworld, government, and the life of a big city as seen through the prism of courageous journalists and their corrupt and devious counterparts. Death by Deadline is a story of murder, mayhem, and hope. accompanied by unforgettable characters, and some of the most unusual newsroom humor that you will ever read. This is not for the fainthearted, but is IS for people who want to walk the fine line between solid reporting and the tragedy of journalistic deceit. The people are not real. Can it happen? Maybe, on some dark day in the future, unless it is too late. "Too late" is a real possibility. But in the meantime, the thread of corruption, sexual tension, heroes and villains fighting an internal struggle, produces a newsroom full of tightrope walkers in a novel with so many surprises, that the reader must be prepared to face the unthinkable.

THE MEN FROM THE BOYS Marty Bond had been a famous cop in New York. But that was before he was "retired" from the force. Now he's a house dick at a crummy hotel, pimping, rousting, drinking too much. His stomach is killing him, and it comes as no surprise when the doctor says it might be a tumor. Knowing he must have cancer, Marty starts to plan a quicker exit. That's when his stepson comes to him. An auxiliary cop working the streets, Lawrence thinks there was something fishy in a meat seller who cries robbery one minute, then changes his mind the next. Marty tells him to forget about it. But the kid investigates anyway, and is almost beaten to death. Now Marty figures it's time to take Lawrence's suspicions seriously. But what can an ex-cop on the skids do when all he has left are a few old skills, a cynical heart, and the little time remaining?

Two men are killed outside the Grand Cafe on Amsterdam Avenue. There's no connection between them, but the widow of one hires Barney Harris, a 250-pound auto mechanic, to sniff out police corruption and find her husband's killer.

She was an expensive call girl and spending a night with her came high. But he never figured on a price as high as murder. The photograph did justice to her generous statistics. Any private eye would enjoy tracking her down, and Hal Darling was no exception. Her name was Marion Lodge. She'd put her impressive body to good use as a call girl before she'd dropped out of sight almost a year before. Hal was being paid a fortune to find her. But someone else was also looking for Marion-with a knife. Hal had to get her fast, or the killer would strike first.

It was a few minutes before eleven when I unlocked our door. The dumb lamp we had in the two-by-four "foyer" was on. The lamp looked like a drippy flower and cost fifty-seven bucks strictly because it was imported from Denmark. If all their lamps are like this job they must be blind over there. I could just about make out the couch opened as a bed, was surprised Mary was in the hay so early. I called out softly, "Babes?" She didn't answer.

I sat there, waiting in this dull Bronx back yard, the gun in my right pocket, safety off. It was simple... wait till he was on top of me, one shot in the heart... then run across the lot to the car. Sid had an ordinary looking heap; nobody would notice it, or the license number. The license number-that was one of the chances I had to take-one of the too-many chances. But this would work, if my luck held out. IF... IF... Damn, I hoped to hell he didn't have a wife and kids, looked too young for that, but even if he did-I had a wife and kid, too. God knows I didn't want to kill this detective, but I was caught in this web, had to do it. Had to... No point in thinking about that-more important to think of some way of disposing of the gun. Couldn't pull the same gag about losing it on Tony again. Well, have to work that out, somehow. Sloppy thinking on my part not to plan.... Hell with plans, no time for it. Not like the other one. Marshal Jameson, the promising young sculptor, sitting on his butt in a strange Bronx back yard on a sunny afternoon... carefully planning his second murder. I grinned, a sour, nervous grin-I was damn near bawling. Me, who'd never hurt a fly, waiting with a gun for a... I heard a car stop in front of the house. It was five to three. The dick was on time. I stood up and peered around the corner of the alley. He was alone. I waited: no running from this, no backing out. Or was killing the easy way out for me?

"The place seemed to be filling up with uniformed cops. I felt trapped. I shrugged and headed for the door. Suddenly I wasn't as much angry as plain tired. All I wanted was to get out of this rat trap, return to Rose and our boat; get the hell back to Ansel's island where the only problem was whether we'd sleep all day or go underwater fishing. I don't know, maybe I was nuts. Or everybody else was." Originally published in 1959.

An elderly amateur detective visiting his family in the Hamptons over the summer becomes involved in a murder mystery.

Two books in one! Murder in Paradise and The Coin of Adventure ''What is the meaning of 'whore?''' Ruita asked in Tahitian, anger rising in her voice. I didn't hear an answer because just then a hell of a fracas broke out at the poolside. Ruita and Kitty Merry were rolling on the white sand, punching and clawing at each other. The actress' halter was yanked off and Ruita's blouse was ripped to shreds. I ran over and pulled Ruita to her feet, blood on her gorgeous face from a deep scratch. Kitty had a puffed eye and there was blood on her over-red lips as she jumped up - bare breasts moving like two enormous pendulums - screaming words I hadn't heard in years. Much later, long after I had returned to the boat, a Papeete cop arrived looking for my Ruita. She had disappeared. And Kitty Merry had just been found murdered.

It was my first day in Paris but the feeling was still with me: like I was getting ready to explode, as if my guts were a lit fuse racing up to my brain. Being cooped up gets me that way, although I was camped in a big room in this swank hotel. Twelve bucks a night and it was the best hotel room I'd ever been in. I'd docked at Le Havre the afternoon before, came straight to this fancy joint from Gare St. Lazare, like they told me to

One of many great works by E. Phillips Oppenheim, "prince of storytellers" from the late 19th and early 20th Century England.

- 'An ingenious country house mystery... keeps the reader on tenterhooks from the very first page' NEW YORK TIMES - 'J. Jefferson Farjeon is quite unsurpassed for creepy skill in mysterious adventures' DOROTHY L. SAYERS - The much-revered crime writer J. Jefferson Farjeon's second crime novel back in print for the first time in almost a century. To Brambles, a dilapidated yet comfortable English country house, come the uninvited guests: a motley crew, who appear at the most unexpected hours and on the most impossible errands. Singly and in procession they arrive to trouble the calm of Ambrose Blythe, sexagenarian owner of Brambles, and of Peter Haslam, his house guest. Add to these an imperturbable butler, a tragic-eyed damsel and the super-logician Detective Grant to complete the ingredients of the perfect Golden Age of Crime story. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Joseph Jefferson Farjeon was born into a literary family in Hampstead, north west London in 1883. He was a prolific crime writer, writing over sixty novels over the course of thirty years, many published by William Collins & Sons and featuring in their hugely popular Collins Crime Club. Dorothy L. Sayers said of his work, 'every word is entertaining.' His best-known novel (and play) NUMBER 17, was made into a film by Alfred Hitchcock. He died in 1955. PRAISE FOR J. JEFFERSON FARJEON: 'Jefferson Farjeon writes thrills enhanced by good writing, good humour, and good character sketches' THE SUNDAY TIMES; 'A Sherlock Holmes novel of the first degree' NEW YORK POST; 'This delightful writer delivers the goods once again' THE DAILY HERALD; '"Mystery in White" is the perfect book for a winter's evening, a cosy chair and an open fire' THE DAILY MAIL; 'An undiluted joy... Ben is the plum of the book; his personality impresses itself upon the imagination' LIVERPOOL POST; 'A top-hole thriller by a writer who knows his job' THE DAILY EXPRESS.

- The much-revered crime writer J. Jefferson Farjeon's first-ever crime novel back in print for the first time in almost a century. - 'A terse, telling style... Farjeon displays a great deal of knowledge about story-telling' NEW YORK TIMES. - A dark, brooding murderous tale from the Golden Age of Crime.A criminal gang responsible for half the organised crime in England is hunting for a stolen ruby of phenomenal value. But the kingpin behind the criminal syndicate is in fact an imposter. Can Scotland Yard's Inspector Mordaunt recover the stolen gem? ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Joseph Jefferson Farjeon was born into a literary family in Hampstead, north west London in 1883. He was a prolific crime writer, writing over sixty novels over the course of thirty years, many published by William Collins, Sons and featuring in their hugely popular Collins Crime Club. Dorothy L. Sayers said of his work, 'every word is entertaining.' His best-known novel (and play) NUMBER 17, was made into a film by Alfred Hitchcock. He died in 1955. PRAISE FOR 'THE MASTER CRIMINAL: 'A terse, telling style... Farjeon displays a great deal of knowledge about story-telling' NEW YORK TIMES; 'A Sherlock Holmes novel of the first degree' NEW YORK TIMES; 'An exciting, unusual detective story' WISCONSIN LIBRARY BULLETIN.

Ten short stories. Miss Mott is a newspaper columnist, offering advice to readers on various personal matters. Is she now to become a consultant on crime? Of course, her uncle does work at Scotland Yard...In the ten cases, Lucie Mott solves only two-inding a missing woman locked in her own house and recognizing that an apparently philandering husband was actually out thieving--and in a third helps rescue her uncle. In five stories she is saved from her own folly by a supposed criminal known as Violet Joe with whom she immediately falls in love. Three strains of action are interwoven throughout the volume: the romance of Lucie and Violet Joe, the maniacal attraction of the criminal gang leader Meredith for Lucie, and Miss Mott's investigative career. All are neatly tied up in the final case.