Three beautiful women are murdered in an Irish pub in Syracuse. The cops think it's The cops think it's an open and shut case, pointing the finger at bar owner James John Smith. But when the police fail to find Smith or any trail Back to Brooklyn. Gambini is back! Broken Windows. An undocumented day laborer is murdered.
And a disbarred and desperate lawyer in Busted Valentines and Other Dark Delights.
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Cleaning Up Finn. Sarah M. Life is a constant party for Life is a constant party for restaurant manager, Finn Roose. When he seduces an underage woman on one of his booze cruises and loses her-literally, it sets off a massive search Darkest Thoughts. Editors Darrell James, Linda O. Johnston and Tammy Kaehler selected more than a dozen representative tales, with an introduction by Gary Phillips. Join the gala celebration and find out more about the local chapter of this notable national organization!
Cardone, Sally Carpenter, L. Now, sixteen tantalizing stories from L. The anthology features stories that reflect a Los Angeles experience rarely depicted by Hollywood, much less witnessed by the casual visitor. Join us, if you dare: view a vampire movie in our Forever Hollywood Cemetery, or take a walk along the concrete banks of the L. Eventually, he landed a late-night shift at Burger King.
When Mark Wiley drove him to work the night of July 17, Leahy seemed excited. It was payday, and he'd be getting his driver's license and a car within a week.
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Alexandra Zapp was tucked into her little red plaid coat and little red plaid hat, holding her little red Scooby-Doo lunch pail and waiting for the bus for the first day of pre-K. The other four-year-olds were crying. Ally was smiling. She marched onto the bus and never looked back.
Ally was an itty-bitty girl but always vibrant, vivacious, and busy, busy, busy. Her younger sister, Caroline, laughs as she remembers their first ski class as tykes at Sun Valley. She was so teeny, and there she was, in a full tuck cruising straight down the mountain, catching air. One hundred percent balls out. She was a rascal, totally mischievous. She had climbed in and was just dangling. She also had a fertile mind. Ally and her younger sister were inseparable.
They would lie in their bedroom at night, gaze at a tower atop a nearby hill, and make up stories about it. Even though her parents separated when she was young, it was a childhood marinated in love and rooted in a friendly, wealthy neighborhood in southwest Portland, Oregon, where the kids could frolic with their old English sheepdog and three cats. Feeling unchallenged, Ally decided to leave home and attend Miss Porter's, a boarding school in Connecticut, and her family agreed to send her there for her junior and senior years of high school.
When she graduated in , she returned home, to the University of Oregon, to be closer to her family. But she was ready for a new adventure, and in she took a publishing job at Little, Brown in Boston. She was on a plane east five days later. With her nuclear smile and boundless energy, year-old Ally Zapp took Boston by storm. Her favorite was her job at the nonprofit Massachusetts Sports Partnership, where she could meld her love for community service with her passion for sports.
But she wasn't a socialite, implying as it does a partygoer for the party's sake. She cared about the missions. It was her credo: The more you give, the more you get back.
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What Ally got back certainly could not be measured in her bank ledger. Besides, the girl couldn't sit still. If she wasn't racing sailboats, she was whipping up gingersnap cookies. If she wasn't sewing elaborate gowns with matching purses never, ever in black she was writing thank-you notes on beautiful cream-colored stationery. Ally was the type who could walk into a room and strike up a conversation with anyone.
It didn't hurt that she could expound on almost any subject. Her sister called her Encyclopedia Brown; her friends say they needed a dictionary to keep up with her.
But she was no pretentious, brainiac do-gooder. Ally and her new roommate, Tori, called it the Preppy Party. They invited friends to their carriage house in Newport and told them to dress in, say, L. Bean snowflake sweaters. They served pink-and-green Jell-O shots. It was a hoot.
She never really left Boston, though, returning for her charity work in a beat-up Jeep she drove into the ground. Still, it took her no time to create a new family in Newport.https://anexexamad.cf
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She knew everyone: the restaurateurs, the kids in the sailing program, the priests at her church. Then, in June, she decided to chase the ultimate job in sailing: working on the America's Cup in New Zealand. She called home in a rush of excitement. Ally didn't even have a job yet but knew she'd find one. She burst into tears. They had gotten matching computers so they could e-mail daily.
Ally finished her job on July Two days later, she drove to Boston for the charity harbor cruise. As Ally swung open the bathroom door at Burger King, Leahy ambushed her. Knife in his right hand, he shoved her back into the pink-tiled restroom. Ally fought. Fought hard.
She bit his fingers when he clamped them over her mouth. She scratched his forearms when he put her in a chokehold. She head-butted him. She kicked. She clawed. She screamed. But it was useless: He weighed twice as much.