By Charles Williams
All The Way is a compact, well equipped factor dependent round an fascinating premise: in an effort to dedicate the proper crime, Jerry Forbes has to spend every week impersonating a guy he doesn’t resemble… whom he helped homicide.
Charles Williams (1909-1975) was once one of many preeminent authors of yankee crime fiction. Born in Texas, he dropped out of college in 10th grade to enlist within the US service provider Marine, serving ten years sooner than leaving to paintings within the electronics undefined. on the finish of global conflict II, Williams started writing fiction in San Francisco, the place the good fortune of the “backwoods noir” Hill woman (1951) allowed him to hand over his activity and write complete time for the remainder of his life.
Williams’ fresh and a little informal narrative sort distinguishes his novels, which variety from hard-boiled noir to suspense thrillers, set within the sea and the Deep South. even if released by way of pulp homes, his paintings gained nice severe acclaim, with Hell Hath No Fury (1953) changing into the 1st paperback unique to be reviewed by way of mythical ny instances critic Anthony Boucher. a lot of his novels have been tailored to the display, together with lifeless Calm (1963) and Don’t simply Stand There! (1966), for which Williams wrote the screenplay. He died in 1975.
Unknown resource epub, fresh with operating bankruptcy breaks.
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Extra info for All The Way (aka "The Concrete Flamingo")
An assassination. ” I said nothing. Looked up at the sky. ” Duffy said again. I kept on looking up at the sky and dragged myself ten years backward through time, to a whole different world. ” I asked. “Military tanks? Tracks and guns? ” “There’s nothing to them,” I said. “I mean, you like them to be able to move fast, you want some reliability, you don’t object to some fuel economy. ” “Can I shoot you before you can shoot me? That’s what I want to know. If we’re a mile apart, can my gun reach you?
He stopped. He looked right at me. We got into one of those crowded-sidewalk things where we both hesitated and then both started moving and then both stopped again. At first I thought he didn’t recognize me. Then there was a shadow in his face. Nothing definitive. I held back and he walked across in front of me and climbed into the rear seat of a black Cadillac DeVille waiting at the curb. I stood there and watched as the driver eased out into the traffic and pulled away. I heard the hiss of the tires on the wet pavement.
She was wearing jeans and a heavy fisherman’s sweater. She had windblown hair and was maybe fifty years old. She looked tired and strained. She stopped about six feet from the car, like she was giving me the opportunity to realize it would be more polite if I got out and met her halfway. So I opened the door and slid out. I was stiff and cramped. I stepped forward and she put out her hand. I took it. It was ice cold and full of bones and tendons. “My son told me what happened,” she said. Her voice was low and sounded a little husky, like maybe she smoked a lot or had been crying hard.
All The Way (aka "The Concrete Flamingo") by Charles Williams