Red Angel (Paul Devlin Series #6)

Red Angel (Paul Devlin Series #6)

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by William Heffernan
     
 

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Anyone who brings grief to the people NYPD detective Paul Devlin loves is going to have to pay. That's why he's accompanying Adrianna Mendez, the lady of his heart, to Cuba, where Adrianna's aunt Maria has met with a serious "accident." A great hero of Castro's revolution, revered throughout the island as Angel Rojo, Dr. Maria Mendez was burned beyond

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Overview

Anyone who brings grief to the people NYPD detective Paul Devlin loves is going to have to pay. That's why he's accompanying Adrianna Mendez, the lady of his heart, to Cuba, where Adrianna's aunt Maria has met with a serious "accident." A great hero of Castro's revolution, revered throughout the island as Angel Rojo, Dr. Maria Mendez was burned beyond recognition in a car wreck, then her body was stolen by members of a bloodthirsty voodoo sect. Now Devlin is determined to recover the Red Angel's remains and unravel the dark secret behind her death. But the New York cop's legendary street sense may not be enough to keep him breathing in this unfamiliar world of corruption, terror, and potent black magic -- especially when a vengeful madman and his killers land on the enigmatic island with one immediate goal: to watch Paul Devlin die.

Editorial Reviews

New York Times Book Review
Skillfully entertaining.
Washington Post Book World
Heffernan is a master. Flawlessly plotted, seamlessly written.
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Edgar Award-winner Heffernan's strong new entry in his series featuring New York City detective Paul Devlin, last seen in Winter's Gold (1997), opens with a bang--a mob shooting in Manhattan. Later, when Devlin's lover, Adrianna Mendez, learns that her Aunt Maria, a Cuban doctor, is in a Havana hospital, Devlin drops the mob case and accompanies Adrianna to Cuba. There they discover that Maria, a popular folk heroine called the Red Angel and a Castro confidante, is dead and her body missing. As officials from two state security agencies monitor the search for Maria's corpse, Devlin calls in his assistant, Ollie Pitts, for back up. Their investigation leads into the mysterious and dangerous world of Afro-Cuban religion, especially the violent Abakua secret society. But don't forget those New York mobsters. This is a very political book, with Heffernan's complex plot weaving together the Mafia with greedy U.S. and Cuban government officials. Although Devlin and Pitts are standard issue, as are the mobsters, the Cuban characters are well-drawn and attractive, even when slippery. Heffernan also does a superb job explaining the varieties of Cuban religious experience, the Cuban sensibility and the ominous shadows of a rigid police state, though at times such explanations slow down the action. Agent, Gloria Loomis. (Dec.) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
New York City special investigative detective Paul Devlin leaves behind an apparent gang war to help Adrianna, his Cuban American lover, with a family problem in Cuba. Only after arriving do they discover the death of Adrianna's aunt--widely known in Cuba as a heroine of the Revolution--and learn that members of a voodoo cult have stolen her body. With the assistance of a local policeman and Devlin's New York partner, Devlin and Adrianna struggle against the machinations of the Cuban secret police and others to uncover the truth. Deeply involving, expertly detailed, and strategically plotted, the latest Devlin mystery from Edgar Award-winning Heffernan is a real attention grabber. Highly recommended for most collections. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 8/00.] Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
After two outings, Heffernan (Cityside, 1999, etc.) summons veteran NYPD Inspector Paul Devlin from hiatus, but then, willy-nilly, whisks him from the Big Apple, where he's done his best work, to Castro's Cuba, where Devlin's lover, the beautiful Adrianna, goes to claim the body of her favorite aunt, Maria, killed in a Havana auto accident. When they arrive there's no body to claim, and no accident either. Nor, for that matter, was Aunt Maria an ordinary auntie. As the Red Angel, she was a hero of the Revolution, a close ally of Castro's beloved by the Cuban populace as the result of a life devoted to good works. An enigmatic cop, Major Martinez, is the source of most of this intelligence. His opposite is the evil Colonel Cabrera, of the secret police, who arranged Aunt Maria's fatal accident and hid her body, though he claims to be searching for it. Cabrera is in cahoots with"John the Boss" Rossi and other Mafia figures to undermine the government, returning Cuba to that halcyon time when rampant racketeering lined the pockets of a cooperative bureaucracy. So what's really going on here? Something (though not a whole lot) to do with the Mafia, and gambling, and drugs, and a little bit of voodoo—and enough tedious backstory and superfluous tourist info to bog down a much more substantial narrative. In the absence of a strong storyline, Devlin and company flounder as pathetically as Florida-bound Cubans. The result is almost as much unsatisfactory travelogue as unsatisfactory thriller.

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Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780062028976
Publisher:
HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:
10/26/2010
Series:
Paul Devlin Series , #6
Sold by:
HARPERCOLLINS
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
320
Sales rank:
296,182
File size:
3 MB

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

New York City

Vinnie "Big Head" Tedesco stood on the sidewalk, one hand pulling at the tight crotch of his trousers. His eyes roamed the street, as if searching for someone or something he wanted to avoid. Both were nervous affectations, which if recognized, Vinnie would have preferred to hide. Even so, there was an underlying cockiness about the man. His black silk shirt was open to mid-chest, allowing sunlight to reflect the glimmer of a heavy gold chain, and he occupied the sidewalk as if it were his private domain, forcing passersby to move around him. He was a large man, not exceptionally tall, but put together like a block of cement. His hair was long and dark and thickly curled, and it made his already large head seem enormous, almost a caricature: thus his street name, Vinnie Big Head. He was thirty-six years old, an up-and-coming member in the Rossi crime family, and in less than two minutes he would be dead.

Ollie Pitts stared at the body, already outlined in chalk. He made a sucking sound as he tried to remove a bit of food from his teeth. Then he belched.

"How do you see it?" Paul Devlin asked.

Pitts gave an almost imperceptible shrug. "The one witness we got saw him about five minutes before it went down. Says our boy was standing here, takin' up half the sidewalk like he was waitin' for somebody." A small grin flickered across his lips. "Of course it coulda been just bad luck for Vinnie. A couple of shooters from another family drivin' around lookin' for a target, and Vinnie just happens to be standing there scratching his ass." Pitts paused and belched again. "But I don't buy it. To me itsmells more like a setup. Our boy here gets a call and somebody he knows says, Hey, Vinnie, meet us on the corner and we'll go get some scungilli, or a blow job, or whatever Vinnie happens to be up for today. Then the car pulls up and Vinnie Big Head gets two in the chest before he knows what hit him." He raised his chin, indicating the sunburst splatter of blood and bone and tissue that surrounded Vinnie's head on the sidewalk. "Then the shooter gets out and pumps two in his head, just to make sure. Typical mob heart-and-head stuff." He paused, thinking about that. "Looks like a heavy-caliber, though, not the twenty-two peashooters they usually use for this kind of thing." Another shrug. "But Vinnie was a big guy with a nasty rep. Maybe they wanted to make sure the first ones knocked him down. They also didn't have to worry about noise. Not in this fuckin' neighborhood."

Devlin studied the surrounding buildings. The body lay on Broome Street, just off Mulberry in Manhattan's Little Italy. it was one of the city's landmark districts, an area forged more than a century ago by a continuous flow of Italian immigrants and the Mafia goons who lived in their shadow. Today, only a few Italians remained. Over the last twenty years nearby Chinatown had gradually spread across Canal Street, taking over the once fabled neighborhood so noted for its reticence with police. But that attitude of silence had not changed with the ethnicity. Pitts was right. This was still a see-no-evil kind of place, and not a single neighborhood denizen could be found among the tourists who stood gaping at Vinnie Big Head's blood-soaked body. Those who lived and worked here knew better than to stand around where they might be asked questions they did not want to answer.

Devlin smiled at the thought. The one "witness" they had found was a tourist, a man from Iowa who had been inside a nearby shop when the shooting took place. He had been a good citizen and had waited to tell police the little he knew, excited about a story he would now have for his friends back home. Had he known anything at all, he might have returned to those friends in a box.

"This is number five," Devlin said. "All of them Rossi's people. And, so far, no retaliation. I'm starting to think John the Boss is really sick this time."

"It should only be cancer of the throat." Pitts grinned at his boss. He knew Devlin shared the sentiment.

Giovanni 'John the Boss" Rossi had plagued police for more than thirty years, the last twenty as head of a Mafia family whose criminal enterprises stretched from New York, to Miami, to Las Vegas. It was a fact disputed by his doctors, and one very suspect Catholic priest, all of whom swore that Rossi had developed Alzheimer's disease more than a decade ago and was little more than a sick old man, barely capable of finding the bathroom in his Ocean Parkway home. In short, Rossi was an enigma who had kept police at bay by feigning mental enfeeblement, as he regularly went about the city, conducting mob business, dressed in pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers, his retinue of accompanying thugs acting more like keepers than the bodyguards they were. Police attempts to question him were often met with blank, drooling stares. The media, of course, loved the act, and had even dubbed him "the Bathrobe Don."

Devlin had gone after Rossi on his last high-profile case, the death of socialite Natasha Winter. But the don had again proved too elusive. He had entered a private sanitarium, and had managed to wiggle free of the various crimes surrounding that death, including a near-successful attempt on Devlin's life.

Now Rossi seemed to be at the center of the storm. Five of his underlings had been gunned down in the past two months, all supposed victims of a gang war between Rossi and the rival Columbo crime family. The media had beaten those war...

Red Angel. Copyright © by William Heffernan. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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