Pigeon-Blood Red is a fast-paced and suspenseful crime thriller by Ed Duncan. It was released in March 2016, published by Zharmae and is available for sale on Amazon.
Duncan says, “It’s always been said that you
should write what you know. I am a lawyer - as is a pivotal character in the
novel who is being pursued by a hit man - and I'm excited to be able to use my
legal training creatively as well as professionally.”
Synopsis
For underworld enforcer Richard "Rico" Sanders, it seemed
like an ordinary job. Retrieve his gangster boss's priceless pigeon-blood red
ruby necklace and teach the double-dealing cheat who stole it a lesson. A job
like a hundred before it. But the chase quickly goes sideways and takes Rico
from the mean streets of Chicago to sunny Honolulu, where the hardened hit man
finds himself in uncharted territory when a couple of innocent bystanders are
accidentally embroiled in the crime.
As Rico pursues his new targets, the hunter and
his prey develop an unlikely respect for one another and Rico is faced with a
momentous decision: follow his orders to kill the couple whose courage and
character have won his admiration, or refuse and endanger the life of the woman
he loves?
Praise for Pigeon-Blood Red
“Pigeon Blood Red has a dramatic and
satisfying conclusion, leaving the reader nodding his head with approval." - Readers'
Favorite
“In a novel with as much
action as love, it is sure to be a story that will fulfill the desires of
readers of all ages, genders, and areas of interest.” – Red City
Review
"This charming, classically-told crime thriller is a must for
noir fans...refreshingly old-school pulp, inhabited by a familiar cast of
gamblers, con men and hustlers found in Dennis Lehane and Elmore Leonard novels” – Best Thrillers
About Ed Duncan
Ed Duncan is a graduate of Oberlin College and Northwestern University
Law School. He was a partner at a national law firm in Cleveland, Ohio for many
years. He currently lives outside of Cleveland, OH and is at work on the second
installment in the Pigeon-Blood Red
trilogy. To learn more, go to http://eduncan.net/
Excerpt
from Chapter 1
When Rico knocked on Jean’s door he was happy to hear the sound of
footsteps. At least she was there. Maybe it was a good omen. Jean, a stunning
redhead with a figure that made the heart leap, looked through the peephole,
opened the door, and greeted him wrapped in a towel. She was even more
tantalizing than she’d been in the car earlier that day. She wasn’t completely
dry, and here and there tiny droplets of water glistened on her arms and
shoulders. Rico inhaled the subtle fragrance of her shower gel, but before it
could distract him, a voice in his head reminded him, “Point one percent.”
“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” she began, a playful, sultry
smile on her face.
From the doorway Rico scanned the living room and saw nothing amiss.
He walked in and closed the door behind him. Too bad. He only knew how to do
this one way. “Jean, how long have you known me?” he asked stoically.
She was baffled. “You know as well as I do. What kind of a question is
that?”
“I never tried to hide from you how I make my living, true?” They
stood face to face, inches apart, before she took a few halting steps backward.
“So you know what happens to people who don’t tell me what I want to know,
don’t you?”
“Rico,” she stammered, her voice trembling, “you aren’t making any
sense. What’s this all about? I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, but I
haven’t done anything, I swear.”
He took a straight razor from his coat pocket and opened it. As he
walked toward her, she covered her face with her hands. He stepped behind her,
thrust his left arm through the triangle formed by her hands pressing against
her face, and grabbed her right shoulder. With his right hand he held the blunt
side of the open razor against her right cheek.
“Where is it?”
“Please, Rico,” she sobbed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He pressed harder and tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Please, please!”
“I don’t believe you.” He turned the sharp side to her cheek.
“Rico, not my face, please! I swear I don’t know what you’re talking
about.” Her tears puddled where the razor met her skin.
“Sorry, baby.”
As Jean cried out he let the razor fall from his hand and, in one
uninterrupted motion, expertly muzzled her scream with the same hand before the
razor hit the floor. She fainted.
When she came to, she was lying on the couch where Rico had carried
her. He stood with his back to her, talking to Jerry on the phone. Jerry hadn’t
been able to get past lobby security in Robert’s building.
“He palmed it, right?” Jerry asked.
Rico glanced over his shoulder at Jean. “I’ll be there in a few
minutes.” He hung up. “I had to be sure,” he said unapologetically.
She shivered in her towel and glared at him, anger roiling in her
eyes. He went to the bedroom and returned with a blanket, which she allowed him
to drape around her shoulders.
“Sorry, baby. It was just business.”
Still too furious to speak, she defiantly turned her back to him and
silently dared him to say anything about it. A small victory but it was
something. Ignoring the gesture, Rico walked out and closed the door softly
behind him.
She was enraged, as much at herself as at him, because she knew that
the next time he called she would answer. She tried to justify her emotions by
telling herself that he’d stopped short of actually harming her and that he
never would have. But who was she kidding? She could hope but she could never
know for sure.
When the cab pulled up in front of Robert’s building, Jerry was
standing outside smoking a cigarette. It was an expensive high rise on the
city’s Gold Coast along Lake Michigan’s north shore, with a security guard on
duty twenty- four hours a day. There was no way around it; if they wanted to
get into Robert’s apartment, one way or another they’d have to deal with him.
This was admittedly a minor detail, more of an annoyance than anything else.
Jerry knew Rico hated cigarette smoke. An icy stare from him whenever
Jerry lit up was as effective a deterrent as a punch in the gut, so he put the
fag out as Rico left the cab. Rico kept his body rock solid by lifting weights
at a neighborhood gym, jogging regularly, and minimizing his intake of junk
food. He didn’t like the idea of second-hand smoke undoing any of his hard
work.
“So what happened?” Jerry asked.
“She didn’t have it.”
“I could’ve told you that. She’s good people.”
“Don’t start with me.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Anybody can cross the line.”
“Including me?” Jerry hoped Rico might exempt him
but didn’t expect it.
“Yeah, including you.” The two men stared at each
other for a long moment before Rico smiled. “No, not including you.”
The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared and his eyes narrowed. “You
know better.”
The comment stung and Jerry hung his head a little, but it was true
and he knew it. It wasn’t easy to get close to Rico and not many people did. He
was loyal to a fault, yet distant and brooding. Deadly as a cobra but with a
dry, sometimes biting sense of humor. Brutally honest, he lacked guile. Hated
hypocrisy. Loathed arrogance. If you were in a fight for your life against
hopeless odds and could pick just one person to help even them out, he would be
your choice every time. But if you needed a shoulder to cry on or even a pat on
the back, you’d have to think long and hard before you settled on Rico.
“Now, about this guy...” Rico said, ignoring Jerry’s reaction.
Jerry snapped out of it. “You have to tell the security guard who you
want to see. He rings the apartment. If the person answers, the guard buzzes
you in.”
“High-class joint.”
“No wonder he’s always out of money.”
“How much traffic in and out?”
“Not too bad so far.”
Taking in as many details as his eyes could process in one sweep of
the area, Rico slowly turned in a circle, looking for anything out of the
ordinary, anything that counseled against getting on with the business at hand.
Outside, there were pedestrians and cars passing everywhere, but it was a busy
street, so there was nothing unusual about that. Inside, the foyer was empty
except for the security guard. Nothing looked menacing. Nothing looked out of
place. He nodded. “Okay?” Jerry nodded back. “Let’s go and talk to the man.”
They walked briskly to the entrance, donning sunglasses almost in
unison, then glanced behind them one last time before opening the door. Rico
nodded to a spot inside. Jerry planted himself there. Without slowing, Rico
continued toward an oak-paneled counter facing the door, behind which sat an
unarmed security guard casually reading a newspaper. He was about forty, with a
gaunt face and stringy hair reaching below his collar. He was the kind of guy
who went through life trying to keep from stepping on anyone’s toes and hoping
everyone would try to avoid stepping on his. He looked up in time to see Rico,
advancing quickly in his direction, throw open his coat and jerk a .45 out of a
powder-blue shoulder holster. He leaped to his feet and raised his hands above
his head. Rico slammed the gun on the counter.
“Put ’em down,” Rico said. Eyes bulging and hands shaking, the guard
complied and his face took on the look of a condemned man who had just received
word of a reprieve. “That’s right. Relax,” Rico said. “Now buzz Robert
McDuffie’s apartment.” There was no answer. “Try again.” Still no answer. “Get
the key and take me up there,” he ordered, then nodded in the direction of the
.45 resting on the counter under his hand. “This’ll be pointed at the back of
your head on the way. Any questions?” The guard shook his head. “Then let’s
go.”
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