Three Shirt Deal: A Shane Scully Novel

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		Three Shirt Deal: A Shane Scully Novel
		Three Shirt Deal: A Shane Scully Novel

基本信息·出版社：St. Martin's Press
·页码：336 页
·出版日期：2008年01月
·ISBN：0312366272
·International Standard Book Number：0312366272
·条形码：9780312366278
·EAN：9780312366278
·装帧：精装
·正文语种：英语
·丛书名：Shane Scully Novels

内容简介 Truit Hickman is a small-time crook doing life in California's notoriously brutal Corcoran State Prison for the murder of his mother. He admitted to the crime, but now Hickman claims his confession was coerced. A beautiful Internal Affairs detective, Secada "Scout" Llevar, asks Shane to help investigate, and he agrees after learning the original homicide detective was Brian Devine, a ruthless cop with whom Scully has a bad history.What begins as a routine review quickly turns into something much more deadly. The case is abruptly shut down by an LAPD Deputy Chief, and Shane begins to suspect that Hickman really may have been framed by the police. But some things, once started, cannot be stopped, and the investigation spirals dangerously out of control, implicating a violent Hispanic gang, a millionaire powerbroker, and the frontrunner in the Los Angeles mayoral race.Meanwhile, Shane and Alexa struggle to save their marriage, which has come perilously! close to disintegration since Alexa's near-fatal shooting in White Sister - just as Shane finds himself attracted to his new partner. Could the answer to their troubles be tied to the case he's investigating?
作者简介

In his thirty-five-year career, Emmy Award–winning writer Stephen J. Cannell has created more than forty TV series. Among his hits are The Rockford Files, Silk Stalkings, The A-Team, 21 Jump Street, Hunter, Renegade, Wiseguy, and The Commish. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and children.  Check out his Web site at www.cannell.com.

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Praise for Stephen J. Cannell

“Written by a born entertainer.”

—New York Post on White Sister

“A terrific read.”

—New York Sun on White Sister

“Cannell dishes out the action in forklift-sized servings.”

—Publishers Weekly on White Sister

“As the case spirals outward from local crime to international espionage dating back to the 1980s, the action rarely lets up.”

—Los Angeles Times on Cold Hit

专业书评 From Publishers Weekly

Cannell, creator of TV's Rockford Files and A-Team, fails to translate his considerable narrative gifts into print in this seventh Shane Scully police thriller (after 2006's White Sister). LAPD detective Scully has been struggling in his personal life ever since his wife, Alexa, the department's chief of the detective's bureau, was shot in the head and developed erratic mood swings. Secada Llevar, a sexy investigating officer for internal affairs, corners Scully and demands his help in reopening a homicide; she believes Tru Hickman, convicted of killing his mother to support a meth habit, was railroaded by some corrupt cops, but she has been ordered by her superiors to drop her inquiry. Scully joins her probe and predictably uncovers high-level corruption, possibly connected with an impending mayoral election, while struggling with his attraction to Secada. The perils-of-Pauline ending is better suited for the small screen, and the numerous implausibilities may be too much for some readers. (Jan.)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
文摘 Chapter 1
“How do you feel about that?” Dr. Lusk asked.
“I don’t feel much of anything about it,” I answered, dodging the question.
“Detective Scully, I won’t be able to help you if you keep putting up barriers, shielding me from your feelings and emotions.”
“It’s her car, okay? What happens to it is kinda her business, not mine. I was just saying it seemed odd.”
“So you booked an appointment through the psychiatric support group and drove all the way over here from Parker Center on your lunch hour, but you don’t have any feelings about the accident? It just seems odd to you and that’s it?”
“I’m concerned, okay?”
“Concern is an intellectual response. Your wife crashes her car, doesn’t tell you about it, drains your bank account to get it fixed on the sly instead of putting it through the insurance, then rents a duplicate car to hide it from you. But despite all this, you have no anger, no sense of frustration or betrayal. You have concern.”
“Yeah.”
I was thirty minutes into the forty-minute “hour.” Dr. Eric Lusk leaned back in a beige, leather wing chair, peering over tiny half-glasses, his huge Buddha belly, and ten feet of tan Berber. I was in a matching chair opposite him, trapped in a colorless cocoon, trying to affect nonchalance. My body wouldn’t cooperate. Angst smoldered. Telltale emotional exhaust leaked out of me. I crossed my legs, and then uncrossed them while nondescript music oozed from ceiling speakers at subhuman volume.
“Let’s talk about the meds you found yesterday.”
“I found them in her purse. She’d peeled the label off the bottle so I wouldn’t know the doctor or what they were for. I had the police lab identify them. The results came back this morning. Carb
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