McGill's Short Cases 1-3
As a cop and later a private investigator, Jim McGill has worked some really big cases. Life and death cases. One case, solving the murder of Patricia Darden Grant’s first husband, might even have changed the course of American history. But not every investigation is epic in scope. There are short cases, too.
This is the first collection of three such cases. In Found Money, political enemies of the president — McGill’s wife — try to concoct a scandal by making McGill look corrupt. If McGill is going to stop them, he’ll have to turn things around overnight. In Lost Dog, a little girl wants McGill to find her missing pooch. Only the kid is the daughter of a Russian diplomat, and the Chinese might be involved, too. If McGill isn’t careful, he might step in something nasty. In Pins & Needles, McGill is asked to help a first-round NFL draft choice who put himself on the wrong side of voodoo queen. To come out on top in this one, he’ll have to steal the woman’s juju.
Sometimes, you’ll want a lot of McGill.
Other times you’ll find good things come in short cases.
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Published 2013 by Stray Dog Press, Inc.
Tradepaper published 2016 by Stray Dog Press, Inc.
ISBN: 978-0-9887868-3-7 [ebook]
Available from amazon.com
ISBN: 978-0-9908412-8-9 [tradepaper] Available from online booksellers.
Like an appetizer at a five star restaurant..., June 22, 2013
Sinfully good, but just not filling enough...Mr. Flynn really is a great story teller and the McGill series is one of my favorites. If there's a drawback to this format, it's that there aren't as many of Mr. Flynn's astute political observations that are typically effortlessly interwoven throughout a longer novel. But pay no attention to my quibbling; it's a great read! — WJ
McGill's Short Cases 1 - 3, June 27, 2013
I can't say enough about what an excellent writer Joe Flynn is. All of his books are wonderful, and this one does not disappoint (except that these are short stories and not full-length novels). But, for short stories, they are marvelous. — Ann Louise
McGill Short Case #1
Inigo de Loyola stood on Pennsylvania Avenue outside the wrought iron fence surrounding the White House. He remained there long enough to get on the nerves of the uniformed Secret Service officers watching him. Twilight on that mild April day was about to yield to night and, though the grounds of the Executive Mansion were well lighted, the men and women charged with protecting the president knew that crazies always felt more empowered by the onset of darkness. Adding to the tension, the man outside the perimeter had his hands steepled, his head bowed and his eyes closed as if he were praying. The question was, praying for what?
Faith was a wonderful thing, but too many people who claimed to be the Almighty's personal confidants forgot all about his sixth commandment: Thou shalt not kill.
Two uniformed officers were about to head outside the fence and interview the pious figure in his hand-me-down clothes when SAC Elspeth Kendry appeared. The special agent in charge of the White House Security Detail had noticed the man while doing a routine inspection of the grounds from the roof of the mansion.
She told the uniformed captain on duty, "I'll handle this one."
While following her order without quibble, the captain still positioned his two best marksmen to take the man outside the fence down, should his intentions prove more diabolical than divine. SAC Kendry was smart enough to give them a clear field of fire.
She stopped ten feet away from the man. She looked at his face. Having grown up in Beirut during dangerous times, she'd looked into the eyes of more than a few fanatics. The religiously inflamed, the politically fanatic and the mentally unhinged. She didn't get any of those vibes from this man.
As if he was not only aware of her presence — with his eyes still closed — but also knew what she was thinking, he told her, "I mean no harm. I came only to pray for the president, for her well being and for all those who live and work here."
The man opened his eyes, looked at Elspeth and introduced himself by name.
His English carried an accent. Spanish she thought, but with an overlay of Italian. It was an attractive combination when grafted onto a gentle baritone voice. The rest of him wasn't hard to take either. His hair and beard could have used barbering, but both were silver and full. His brows were as dark brown as his eyes. His nose and mouth were large but well formed.
Elspeth had also seen any number of attractive men whose souls were as vile as vomit.
She said, "I was going to say you've been here for quite a while, but if you've been praying for everyone at the White House, that's a big job."
"I have years of practice," de Loyola said.
"You're a priest?"
"I'm a Jesuit, currently without a formal assignment."
Elspeth looked at the man's clothes. Resale shop, if that. Not pressed, but still clean. No holes.
"What do you do informally, Father?"
"I minister to the poor."
"Trying to save their souls?"
"Trying to fill their bellies."
Elspeth had attended a Catholic school in Beirut.
She remembered the beatitudes.
"Blessed are the merciful," she said.
"For they will be shown mercy," de Loyola replied.
"Is there somewhere you'd like to be taken, Father?"
"Heaven, borne on the wings of angels, but I doubt that will be my fate."
He gave Elspeth a smile. Had nice teeth, too, she saw. Not common among street people.
"I am free to go?" he asked.
"Of course, Father. Go with God."
He might have taken offense, and that would have told Elspeth something.
Namely, the guy should be marked as a potential threat.
Scheduled for a more serious discussion should he make a return appearance.
But Inigo de Loyola only expanded his smile and nodded at Elspeth.
As if to say, "Good one."
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