American Quartet: A Fiona FitzGerald Mystery

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Overview

Warren Adler is the acclaimed author of 25 novels, published in 30 languages. Two of his books, "The War of the Roses" and "Random Hearts" were made into major motion pictures. He lives in Jackson Hole, Wyoming and New York City.

In this first book of the Fiona series, Fiona FitzGerald, a senator's daughter turned Washington, D.C., homicide detective, pursues a serial killer with a bizarre MO in the nation's capitol. In her search to solve the crimes, she uncovers the disturbing...

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Overview

Warren Adler is the acclaimed author of 25 novels, published in 30 languages. Two of his books, "The War of the Roses" and "Random Hearts" were made into major motion pictures. He lives in Jackson Hole, Wyoming and New York City.

In this first book of the Fiona series, Fiona FitzGerald, a senator's daughter turned Washington, D.C., homicide detective, pursues a serial killer with a bizarre MO in the nation's capitol. In her search to solve the crimes, she uncovers the disturbing sexual and homicidal obsessions of a socially prominent but failed Washington politician.

American Quartet was on The New York Times list of top ten crime novels of the year. Try the other Fiona mysteries: American Sextet, Senator Love, Immaculate Deception, The Ties That Bind, and The Witch of Watergate.

"A gripping thriller with Washington politics as background and vivid and memorable characters. Well done."

· Library Journal

"Wheels within wheels - a terrifying yarn."

· Los Angeles Times

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781931304573
  • Publisher: Stonehouse Press
  • Publication date: 12/1/1981
  • Pages: 320
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.50 (h) x 0.72 (d)

Read an Excerpt

THE AIR conditioner sucked in the steamy Washington air, wheezed, faltered, then regurgitated a dank iciness into the interior of the coffee shop. The establishment, as Fiona had observed countless times, had the air of a comfortable old street lady, shabby but serviceable, a touch world-weary but still aiming to please the customer. “How the hell would you know?” Teddy said, in his cop’s rasping croak. “Osmosis.” It was a game they played; one of many, a professional duet, after nearly six months as homicide partners. She watched the widening spear of sunlight illuminate the coffee slicks on the formica table. Through the smeared window, the leaves were still, and the trendy rehabilitated townhouses appeared appropriately eighteenth century in the morning light. Capitol Hill itself had the look of a sleepy village. Sherry’s, with its plastic and chrome booths, its Scotch-taped Naugahyde lounge covers, was a good spot for on-duty hiding and always, at this early morning hour, filled with coffee-gurgling police and loners fleeing from their crumbling rooming houses. “The kids excited?” Fiona asked. “Yeah,” Teddy shrugged. He was always tight-lipped in the morning, which gave his wife Gladys fits, and his children’s possessiveness was absolute and draining. They were going to Ocean City for the Fourth. He looked warily at the portable radio on the table, their umbilical cord to headquarters. “I promised Bruce the whole weekend,” Fiona said. “With his kids at camp and the House out . . .” Crazy, she thought, how their lovers’ time was dictated by outside forces. She was proud of him, amember of Congress, although she detested politics. For his part he admired her cop career as an exercise in female pluck, although she suspected that deep down he considered it an aberration. They had planned to live together experimentally for the summer while his kids were away. She hoped it would be a vacation fantasy, July Fourth to Labor Day, like in a lazy resort holiday. Her bags were packed. “If we make it through August, we might get married,” she said. She and Teddy were intimate the way strangers on a train are intimate. She looked across the table at him, a brooding, hulking man, the genuine Teddy. His bigness gave her security. She wondered if he resented her; her youth, her education, her femaleness. Being partners wasn’t random selection. They were together only because they were Caucasians. The eggplant, the division chief, had “married” them, to keep down the salt-and-pepper tensions in the department. He always took the line of least resistance, hence the vegetable nickname. “Quiet?” Sherry asked, coming from behind the counter to refill their cups. The spotted apron accentuated her girth. “We hope,” Fiona said, looking at the black box, which gave out static. “We both have weekend plans. But you never know in this business.” Teddy grunted indifferently. His private thoughts seemed always to be on home problems, making ends meet, raising a family of four on twenty-two five. The radio crackled suddenly. They leaned forward, the adrenalin charging. “The National Gallery of Art?”
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  • Posted March 30, 2014

    With all the ingredients for an absorbing and fast-paced mystery

    With all the ingredients for an absorbing and fast-paced mystery, American Quartet is faithful to the DC scene and portrays the light and dark sides of Washington very well. The interplay between the characters is very real and substantially contributes to the power of the book. It is definitely a story that is hard to put down. The many mini-mysteries within the story are icing on the central story of a psychotic killer who recreates assassinations from the past using innocent victims. Fiona Fitzgerald is a brilliant construct. She is not a super-hero but a real person, with all the angst that a human has. I'm looking forward to seeing more about her. This book is a great read!

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