Dead in His Tracksis a well written and unique take on the genre of hardboiled detective fiction. The characters are real and well-wrought, as is the dialog. But don't just take my word for it. Try this example on for size:
My cell phone rang when I was about halfway back to my apartment. I pulled over on Hope Street directly across from a funeral home and flipped open my phone. "Hello?"
"Hey, Mike." It was Sidwell. "You know, I've had some Federales calling me about you. Secret Service."
"I'm not surprised," I replied.
He chuckled. "Who'd you piss off this time?"
"No one," I replied. "I've got somebody going around and doing it for me."
"Well, that's good," he said. "Frees up your weekends."
"What do the Feds want?" I asked.
"You," he said.
"What are you supposed to do?"
"When?" he asked.
"When you see me," I said. "What do the Feds want you to do?"
"Stuff you in a sack and mail you to Bulgaria," he said. "They wanted information. They didn't get into details."
I said, "Great," and then, "How'd it go with Meerschaum?"
He said, "Fine. I was going to beat a confession out of him, but his lawyer was here, and you know how squeamish they are. I asked him some questions. He gave me some answers. We sent him home."
"Makes sense," I said. "Listen. Thanks for the tip."
"Sure," he said. "No problem. Unless they're monitoring this call, in which case I'm ratting you out as soon as we hang up."
"I would do the same for you," I said and hung up.
"Hey, Mike." It was Sidwell. "You know, I've had some Federales calling me about you. Secret Service."
"I'm not surprised," I replied.
He chuckled. "Who'd you piss off this time?"
"No one," I replied. "I've got somebody going around and doing it for me."
"Well, that's good," he said. "Frees up your weekends."
"What do the Feds want?" I asked.
"You," he said.
"What are you supposed to do?"
"When?" he asked.
"When you see me," I said. "What do the Feds want you to do?"
"Stuff you in a sack and mail you to Bulgaria," he said. "They wanted information. They didn't get into details."
I said, "Great," and then, "How'd it go with Meerschaum?"
He said, "Fine. I was going to beat a confession out of him, but his lawyer was here, and you know how squeamish they are. I asked him some questions. He gave me some answers. We sent him home."
"Makes sense," I said. "Listen. Thanks for the tip."
"Sure," he said. "No problem. Unless they're monitoring this call, in which case I'm ratting you out as soon as we hang up."
"I would do the same for you," I said and hung up.