“What’s the problem?” I asked. I had picked up the nickname because I had good eyes, I noticed things, and I never forget a damn thing.
“One of my boys got whacked last night. I want you to see if you can figure out who did it.” A car accident? He was hiding something. He only brought me in for problems that were too weird for a regular gumshoe, or one of the cops he had on the take.
“One of your runners get the axe?” He nodded. “You sure it wasn’t the other guy?” Big Willy brought booze in on two-men boats. One man to pilot, and another guy to watch the pilot in case he got ideas. It was a good system.
“That’s one thing I’m sure of. It couldn’t be him.”
“What makes you so sure?” I asked. Big Willy hesitated. That was a rare thing. Was he frightened? I didn’t think he was afraid of God himself.
I liked the idea of the psychic detective a lot, especially in the Twenties. I liked the voice, very personal, colloquial and smooth. The dynamics between charactersat the beginning of the story are also interesting, but then everything starts to mess up. This is a short story and still, halfway through, I was wondering what was is all about. The plot seemed to meander, new characters appeared from nowhere and soon disappeared, and the mystery seemed to be just a pretest to tell… something.
Then comes the end, just like that, quite unlikely, without any apparent connection with the story. I was so baffled I wondered, is this truly the end? Or is this just the beginning of a longer story?
All in all, quite a disappointment.
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