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R.T. Graves aims to be the most dispassionate private detective in New York. With few scruples, fewer friends, a dwindling business and swelling debts, he's close to hitting his mark before an excommunicated uptown heiress commissions Graves to find her estranged brother. Complications arise steadily. And Graves steps into a perilous ring of assaults, robberies, kidnappings, murders and general mayhem. Graves tries to stay a step ahead and a drink behind, but never quite manages to handle everything thrown at him. Impatient bookies, revenge seeking junkies, shipping moguls, gossiping designers, ex-wives, first dates, drug kingpins, pissed off police detectives, a deadly chauffeur, and an elusive client are all on the cusp of pulling him under. Things get grim before they get grimmer. And yet Graves lives to tell you the tale in… UPTOWN QUICKSAND.
clean but truly dirty glasses and then reached for a coffee mug in the cabinet. I waited a few seconds, rolling my head around making loud cracking noises. I filled the mug twice for myself then filled it up a third time for Paul. “Here ya go” “Thanks. You want to know why I’m looking for her?” “Not really.” Defeated, the kid slumped back into his chair. “Come on, man. Help me out here. I need to find her because she owes this guy a lot of money and if he doesn’t get it soon they’re going to
realize I really don’t like the Mickey thing, right?” “Oh yes” Renee left. Hal arrived twenty minutes later. Renee was still out. “Hal” “Yeah. What? Are you locking your doors now?” “Had a break in the other day.” “That’s no good. They take anything?” “My gun” “That’s trouble.” “Yeah. I’ve got to fucking buy a new gun and re do all my permit shit. Anyway, I’ve got appointments at 2, 3 and 4. All shadowing jobs as far as I can tell, some clicks with the camera, a little paper pushing and
pillows down. “The pullout is terrible for your back, but it’s—well--.” Renee was attempting to act gracious, thanking Pierce and taking the pillows and blankets from him. “Thanks, pal.” “Okay. Goodnight, then.” The door to the upstairs shut. I helped Renee pull the cushions off the sofa and make the bed. “You okay?” She didn’t respond. I tried to evoke a response a few times. They were fruitless endeavors. The bed was made when she finally spoke. “I think I’m going to take a blanket and
finish his conversation. The henchman nodded and walked past me, out of the room. “Do you go on a last name basis with everyone? I hear that everyone calls you Graves.” “So you have one working sense. What the fuck are you going to do with my wife and secretary?” “I heard you were rude too.” “What do you want?” “I wanted to meet. You’ve become such an annoyance that I had to put a face to the name. See for myself.” “You’re August Summers. I know you and what you’re about. And now, you know
We got to go.” I began to smile. The squad cars were rounding the corner seven or eight blocks out and I began to smile wider. There had never been a sweeter sound or sight. I walked out confidently. I was certain that with the cops in plain view, Summers would whine and cry and bitch his way into the back of a squad car. I also assumed he was unarmed. I underestimated his demeanor and arms. It was unwise. I pulled the heavy bag off my shoulder and held it at my side. My gun fell to my side. I