The New York Times
Known to Evil (Leonid McGill Series #2)by Walter Mosley
Leonid McGill-the protagonist introduced in The Long Fall, the book that returned Walter Mosley to bestseller lists nationwide -is still fighting to stick to his/i>/b>/i>
The Walter Mosley and his new hero, Leonid McGill, are back in the new New York Times-bestselling mystery series that's already being hailed as a classic of contemporary noir.
Leonid McGill-the protagonist introduced in The Long Fall, the book that returned Walter Mosley to bestseller lists nationwide -is still fighting to stick to his reformed ways while the world around him pulls him in every other direction. He has split up with his girlfriend, Aura, because his new self won't let him leave his wife-but then Aura's new boyfriend starts angling to get Leonid kicked out of his prime, top-of-theskyscraper office space. Meanwhile, one of his sons seems to have found true love-but the girl has a shady past that's all of sudden threatening the whole McGill family-and his other son, the charming rogue Twilliam, is doing nothing but enabling the crisis.
Most ominously of all, Alfonse Rinaldo, the mysterious power-behind- the-throne at City Hall, the fixer who seems to control every little thing that happens in New York City, has a problem that even he can't fix- and he's come to Leonid for help. It seems a young woman has disappeared, leaving murder in her wake, and it means everything to Rinaldo to track her down. But he won't tell McGill his motives, which doesn't quite square with the new company policy- but turning down Rinaldo is almost impossible to even contemplate.
Known to Evil delivers on all the promise of the characters and story lines introduced in The Long Fall, and then some. It careens fast and deep into gritty, glittery contemporary Manhattan, making the city pulse in a whole new way, and it firmly establishes Leonid McGill as one of the mystery world's most iconic, charismatic leading men.
The New York Times
Read an Excerpt
Don’t you like the food?” Katrina, my wife of twenty- three years, asked.
“It’s delicious,” I said. “Whatever you make is always great.” In the corner there sat a walnut cabinet that used to contain our first stereo record player. Now it held Katrina’s cherished Blue Danube china collection, which she inherited from her favorite aunt, Bergit. On top of the chest was an old quart pickle jar— the makeshift vase for an arrangement of tiny wildflowers of every color from scarlet to cornflower blue to white.
“But you’re frowning,” my beautiful Scandinavian wife said. “What were you thinking about?”
I looked up from the filet mignon and Gorgonzola blue cheese salad to gaze at the flowers. My thoughts were not the kind of dinner conversation one had with one’s wife and family.
I have a boyfriend now, Aura Ullman had told me that morning. I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want to feel like I’m hiding anything from you.
“Where’d you get those flowers, Mom?” Shelly asked.
His name is George, Aura told me, the sad empathy in the words making its way to her face.
I had no reason to be jealous. Aura and I had been lovers over the eight months Katrina abandoned me for the investment banker Andre Zool. I loved Aura but gave her up because when Katrina came back, after Andre was indicted for fraud, I felt that she, Katrina, was my sentence for the wrong I had done in a long life of crime.
“I saw them at the deli and thought they might brighten up our dinner,” Katrina told her daughter.
Shelly had been trying to forgive her mother for leaving me. She was a sophomore at CCNY and another man’s daughter, though she didn’t know it. Two of my children were fathered out of wedlock; only the eldest, sour and taciturn Dimitri, who always sat as far away from me as possible, was of my blood.
Do you love him? I hadn’t meant to ask Aura that. I didn’t want to know the answer or to show vulnerability.
He’s very good company . . . and I get lonely.
“Well?” Katrina asked.
Something about those flowers and the echo of Aura’s voice in my mind made me want to curse, or maybe to slam my fist down on the plate.
“Hey, everybody,” Twill said. He was standing in the doorway to the dining room; dark and slender, handsome and flawless except for a small crescent scar on his chin.
“You’re late,” Katrina scolded my favorite.
“You know it, Moms,” the seventeen- year- old man replied. “I’m lucky to get home at all with everything I got to do. My PO got me workin’ this after- school job at the supermarket. Says it’ll keep me outta trouble.”
“He’s not a parole officer. He’s a juvenile offender social worker,” I said.
Just seeing Twill brought levity into the room.
“It’s not a he,” Twill said as he slid into the chair next to me.
“Ms. Melinda Tarris says that she wants me workin’ three afternoons a week.”
“And she’s right, too,” I added. “You need something to occupy your mind and keep you out of trouble.”
“It’s not people like me that get in trouble, Pops,” Twill sang. “I talk so much and know so many people that I can’t get away with nuthin’ somebody don’t see it. It’s the quiet ones that get in the most trouble. Ain’t that right, Bulldog?”
“Can’t you be quiet sometimes?” dour Dimitri said.
Twill’s pet name for his older brother was an apt one. Like me Dimitri was short and big- boned, powerful even though he rarely exercised. His skin was not quite as dark brown as mine but you could see me in every part of him. I wondered why he was so angry at his brother’s chiding. Even though Dimitri never liked me much he loved his siblings. And he had a special bond with Twill, who was so outgoing all he had to do was sit down in a room for five minutes and a party was likely to break out.
“Are you all right?”
Even though we’d drifted apart like the continents had— long ago— Katrina could still read my moods. We had a kind of subterranean connection that allowed my wife to see, at least partly, into my state of mind. It wasn’t just Aura’s decision to move on that bothered me. It was my life at that table, Dimitri’s uncharacteristic anger at his brother, and even those delicate flowers sitting where I had never seen a bouquet before.
There was a feeling at the back of my mind, something that was burgeoning into consciousness like a vibrating moth pressing out from its cocoon.
The phone rang and Katrina started. When I looked into her gray- blue eyes some kind of wordless knowledge seemed to pass between us.
“I’ll get it,” Shelly shouted. She hurried from the room into the hall, where the cordless unit sat on its ledge.
Katrina smiled at me. Even this made me wonder. She’d been back home for nearly a year. In that time her smile had been tentative, contrite. She wanted me to know that she was there for the long run, that she was sorry for her transgressions and wanted to make our life together work. But that evening her smile was confident. Even the way she sat was regal and self- assured.
“Dad, it’s for you.”
Standing up from my chair and moving into the hallway, I felt as if I were displaced, another man, or maybe the same man in a similar but vastly different world: the working- poor lottery winner who suddenly one day realizes that riches have turned his blood to vinegar.
“Hello?” I said into the receiver.
I was expecting an acquaintance or maybe a credit- card company asking about a suspect charge. No one who I did business with had my home number. The kind of business I was in couldn’t be addressed by an innocent.
“Leonid,” a man’s voice said, “this is Sam Strange.”
“Why are you calling me at my home?” I asked, because though Strange was the legman for Alphonse Rinaldo, one of the secret pillars of New York’s political and economic systems, I couldn’t allow even him to infringe on my domestic life, such as it was.
“The Big Man called and said it was an emergency,” Strange said.
Sam worked for the seemingly self- appointed Special Assistant to the City of New York. I say seemingly, because even though Alphonse Rinaldo was definitely attached to City Hall, no one knew his job description or the extent of his power.
I had done a few questionable jobs for the man before I decided to go straight. And while I was no longer engaging in criminal activities I couldn’t afford to turn him down without a hearing.
“What is it you want?” I asked.
“There’s a young woman named Tara Lear that he wants you to make contact with.”
Sam rarely, if ever, spoke Rinaldo’s name. He had an internal censor like those of old- time printers who replaced “God” with “ G- d” in books.
“He just wants you to speak to her and to make sure everything’s all right. He told me to tell you that he would consider this a great favor.”
Being able to do a favor for Special Assistant Rinaldo was like winning six lotteries rolled into one. My blood might turn into high- octane rocket fuel if I wasn’t careful.
Not for the first time I wondered if I would ever get out from under my iniquitous past.
“Leonid,” Sam Strange said.
“When am I supposed to find this young woman?”
“Now . . . tonight. And you don’t have to find her, I can tell you exactly where she is.”
“If you know where she is why don’t you just tell him and he can go talk to her himself?”
“This is the way he wants it.”
“Why don’t you go?” I asked.
“He wants you, Leonid.”
I heard Twill say something in the dining room but couldn’t make out the words. His mother and Shelly laughed.
“Leonid,” Sam Strange said again.
“You know I’m trying to be aboveboard nowadays, Sam.”
“He’s just asking you to go and speak to this Lear woman. To make sure that she’s all right. There’s nothing illegal about that.”
“And I’m supposed to tell her that Mr. Rinaldo is concerned about her but can’t come himself?”
“Do not mention his name or refer to him in any way. The meeting should be casual. She shouldn’t have any idea that you’re a detective or that you’re working for someone looking after her welfare.”
“You know the drill,” Strange said, trying to enforce his personal sense of hierarchy on me. “Orders come down and we do as we’re told.”
“No,” I said. “That’s you. You do what you’re told. Me— I got ground rules.”
“And what are they?”
“First,” I said, “I will not put this Tara’s physical or mental well- being into jeopardy. Second, I will only report on her state of mind and security. I will not convey information that might make her vulnerable to you or your boss. And, finally, I will not be a party to making her do anything against her will or whim.”
“That’s not how it works and you know it,” Sam said.
“Then go on down to the next name on the list and don’t ever call this number again.”
“There is no other name.”
“If you want me you got to play by my rules.”
“I’ll have to report this conversation.”
“Of course you do.”
“He won’t like it.”
“I’ll make a note of that.”
He gave me an address on West Sixtieth and an apartment number.
“I’ll be staying at the Oxford Arms Club on Eighty- fourth until this situation is resolved,” he said.
“You can call me there anytime, day or night.”
I hung up. There was no reason to continue the conversation, or to wish him well, for that matter. I never liked the green- eyed agent of the city’s Special Assistant.
Alphonse had two conduits to the outside world. Sam was the errand boy. Christian Latour, who sat in the chamber outside Alphonse’s office, was the Big Man’s gatekeeper and crystal ball combined. I liked Christian, even though he had no use for me.
I stood there in the hall, trying to connect the past fifteen minutes. Dimitri’s uncharacteristic barking at his brother and their mother’s newfound confidence, the crude vase and its lovely flowers, and, of course, the memory of Aura in her heartfelt concern and almost callous betrayal.
I went to the closet in our bedroom, looking to find one of my three identical dark- blue suits. The first thing I noticed was that the clothes had been rearranged. I didn’t know exactly what had been where before, but things were neater and imposed- upon with some kind of strict order. My suits were nowhere in sight.
“What are you doing?” Katrina asked from the doorway.
“Looking for my blue suit.”
“I sent two of your blue suits to the cleaners. You haven’t had them cleaned in a month.”
“What am I supposed to wear?” I said, turning to face her.
Sometimes when Katrina smiled I remembered falling in love with her. It lasted long enough to get married and make Dimitri.
After that things went sour. We never had sex and rarely even kissed anymore.
“You have the ochre one,” she said.
“Where’s the one I wore home tonight?”
“In the hamper. The lapels were all spotted. Wear the ochre one.”
“I hate that suit.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
“You bought it for me.”
“You tried it on. You paid the bill.”
I yanked the suit out of the closet.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“It’s a job. I have to go interview somebody for a client.”
“I thought you didn’t take business calls on our home phone.”
“Yeah,” I said, taking off my sweatpants.
“We have to talk.”
I continued undressing.
“The last time you said that I didn’t see you for eight months,” I said.
“We have to talk about us.”
“Can it wait till later or will you be gone when I get home?”
“It’s nothing like that,” she said. “I’ve noticed how distant you’ve been and I want to, to connect with you.”
“Yeah. Sure. Let me go take care of this thing and either we’ll talk when I get back, or tomorrow at the latest. Okay?”
She smiled and kissed my cheek tenderly. She had to lean over a bit because I’m two inches shorter than she.
I put on the dark- yellow suit and a white dress shirt. Since I was going out for such an important client I even cinched a burgundy tie around my neck. The man in the mirror looked to me like a bald, black- headed, fat grub that had spent the afternoon drying in the sun.
I was shorter than most men, and if you didn’t see me naked you might have thought I was portly. But my size was from bone structure and muscles developed over nearly four decades working out at Gordo’s Boxing Gym.
“Hey Dad, ” Twill called as I was going out the front door of our eleventh- floor prewar apartment.
“Yeah, son?” I said on a sigh.
“Mardi Bitterman’s back in town. Her and her sister.”
Mardi was a year older than Twill. She and her sister had been molested by their father and I had to intervene when Twill got it in his head to murder the man.
“I thought they had moved to their mother’s family in Ireland.”
“Turns out that they weren’t related,” Twill said. “Her father bought Mardi from some pervert. Her sister, too. I don’t know the whole story but they had to come home.”
“Okay. So what do you want from me?” I was impatient, even with Twill. Maybe the fact that his relationship to me was the same as Mardi to her father cut at me a little.
“Mardi’s taking care of her sister and she needs a job. She’s eighteen and on her own, you know.”
“You’re always sayin’ how much you want a receptionist. I figured this would be a good time for you to have one. You know, Mardi’s real organized like. She’d tear that shit up.” Twill was a born criminal but he had a good heart.
“I guess we could try it out,” I said.
“Cool. I told her to be at your office in the morning.”
“Sure, Pops. I knew you’d say yes.”
Meet the Author
Walter Mosley is one of America’s most celebrated, beloved, and bestselling writers. His books have been translated into at least twenty-one languages, and have won numerous awards. Born in Los Angeles, Mosley lives in New York City.
- New York, New York
- Date of Birth:
- January 12, 1952
- Place of Birth:
- Los Angeles, California
- B.A., Johnson State College
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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Rule 1: Don't come here looking for Easy Rawlin's. Wrong locale. Now then: If you read book one and like Leonid, this book brings even more reality to his world, his connections, his vices and his attempts to do the right thing, his shadowy past. As a character, he is well-drawn, and the mishaps of his mission to make sense of multiple mysterious cases going on around him makes a good read.
Another bestseller. Bravo Mr. Mosley. The grittiness of the characters portrayed made it easy for me to follow the story and become entrenched in the story being told. Mosely always takes the time to build his characters especially the family members Leonid struggles to keep safe and unfortunately to keep Leonid's emotional balance even when Leonid gives up his own happiness for others. I cannot wait for the next book in the series.
Leonid McGill is 50-something, short, pudgy and bald. He's also a private detective, who had done nasty work and now is trying to be on the straight and narrow...sort of. He's got a bunch of friends he can call on for various services, as required, and they all show up in Known to Evil, the second in McGill series. Alphonse Rinaldo, a secrete power in the New York City government, calls upon McGill to find the whereabouts of Tara Lear. Going to her last known address, he finds himself in the midst of a murder investigation of one, Wanda Soa. Since McGill is not a favorite of New York's finest, he finds himself a suspect. In the midst of this, his sons Dimitri and Twilliam are trying to help a Russian girl who was forced into prostitution--Dimitri has a crush on her. Lastly, a women Leonid loves (he's in a loveless, cheating marriage) has found a new boyfriend. I like several things about this series. I like the fact it takes place in New York. I like the characters. Leonid's father was a Communist and he's transferred his dislike of the establishment to Leonid. Leonid philosophizes throughout the book. He's a really likeable character. Actually, all the characters are likeable. There's enough action and enough blood, but not too much. Mosley's books are fast reads, but they also make you think about life. A good combination--mystery and philosophy.
Another great read. Would recommend to anyone into mysteries.
I recently got into Walter Mosely's mysteries and I was excited about this new Leonid McGill series. The first ("Long Fall") left me feeling a bit unfulfilled. But this one has definitely restored my belief in the author and provided a new love for Leonid. It is a must read and I would recommend it to all!
Leonid McGill is a new private eye character of Mr. Walter Mosley, Since we bid farwell to Easy Rawlins , MacGill has defintely filled the shoes. This book is a good read, I reccomend it whole heartedly. McGill is a middle aged balding tough guy with a brain and a heart. The road he takes us on is one of mystery, sometimes violent, but always entertaining. Known to Evil is a book of twists and turns, brings emotions, anger and humor, sometiomes all at once. This charachter has great potential and I think we will be hearing much much more from him, at least I hope so!!! BRAVO Mr. Mosley yet another masterpiece.
Know to Evil is also known to many implausible situations- too many to get a 4 star rating, yet the main character, PI Leonid McGill, saves the book with his likable character. You want him to succeed, even if you know that the situation he is in is so contrived as to be cartoonish.
Walter Mosley may be a phenomenon, according to the Houston Press, but I can safely admit that Leonid McGill, the main character in Known to Evil, is a phenomenon in his own right. He’s a man with his own demons, multiple love interests, and an anvil for a fist. Leonid’s demons make him a character that practically bleeds off the page and into your living room, even though he’s a man that isn’t prone to do so. Much like the author, he gives everything he has, and then he adds a bit more. He puts others ahead of himself, and he takes to the streets with reckless abandon. The dialogue proved snappy and witty, and it practically popped of the page. Different characters stuttered in their speech, with commas in place to provide an added emphasis, which often gave the dialogue an added sense of realism, and it’s a writing technique not used by many writers, or at least ones that I’ve read. As a lover of noir crime fiction, books overflowing with action, and strong, male protagonists that can tie words into knots, I’ll be sure to add this author to my ever-growing list of treasured writers and seek out another Walter Moley novel in the not-so-distant future. This is a macho read from the first page to the last, but there’s a heart to it that would intrigue the opposite sex, further proving that Walter Mosley, as well as his relatively new protagonist, are forces not easily ignored. If you avoid this book and what could be a MANfiction label, you’ll do so at your own peril. Robert Downs Author of Falling Immortality: Casey Holden, Private Investigator
Detective Leonid McGill is not perfect, not a super hero, not tall, dark and handsome... oh... wait, he is dark. The thing about him that draws you in is the complexity of the character, the paradox of the situations McGill finds himself in with what his conscience really wants. To me, he's the ultimate good guy, fighting his own demons and deciding what's really important. His loyalty, sometimes seemingly misplaced, is yet understandable and admirable. The story, where McGill tries to save his son from making a serious mistake, and also handle a 'situation' for a savory, crooked politico, ends McGill in another nail biter where every decision is a matter of life and death. Loved this book! Warning: Don't start this book if you have something else to do!
Keeps you going wanting to know whats going to happen next