Sunset Express (Elvis Cole Series #6)

( 27 )

Overview

Prominent restaurateur Teddy Martin is facing charges in his wife’s brutal murder. But he’s not going down without spending a bundle of cash on his defense. So his hotshot attorney hires P.I. Elvis Cole to find proof that Detective Angela Rossi tampered with the evidence. Rossi needs a way back to the fast track after falling hard during an internal investigation five years ago. But Cole needs to know if she’s desperate enough to falsify the case against Martin in order to secure her own position. As Cole and his...

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Sunset Express: An Elvis Cole Novel

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Overview

Prominent restaurateur Teddy Martin is facing charges in his wife’s brutal murder. But he’s not going down without spending a bundle of cash on his defense. So his hotshot attorney hires P.I. Elvis Cole to find proof that Detective Angela Rossi tampered with the evidence. Rossi needs a way back to the fast track after falling hard during an internal investigation five years ago. But Cole needs to know if she’s desperate enough to falsify the case against Martin in order to secure her own position. As Cole and his partner Joe Pike work their way through a tangle of witnesses and an even greater tangle of media, they begin to suspect that it’s not the police who are behind the setup.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“[Robert Crais] should be mentioned in the same breath as Robert B. Parker, Tony Hillerman, Sue Grafton, and James Lee Burke.”
Houston Chronicle

“After Chandler we had James M. Cain, and after Cain there was Ross MacDonald, and currently we have Robert Crais.”
Los Angeles Times Book Review

“Hip, funny and thought-provoking.”
Booklist

A PUBLISHERS WEEKLY BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
PW gave a starred review to this tale of Southern California PI Elvis Cole's run-in with a big-shot criminal defense attorney and the LAPD. (June)
Wes Lukowsky
If Spenser and Hawk are the forefathers of the double-tough-guy mysteries, then Crais' Elvis Cole and Joe Pike are among their most notable offspring. Here Elvis is hired by high-profile attorney Jonathan Green to investigate the death of Susan Martin, wife of megamillionaire Teddy Green. The defense is basing its case on the Mark Fuhrmanlike theory that evidence was planted at the scene by Detective Angela Rossi, a fallen star in the LAPD who could use a celebrity conviction as her ticket back to the fast track. Elvis and Joe are pleased when their efforts show Rossi worked by the book, but attorney Green puts his own spin on the data. When the people Elvis contacted begin dying, he senses something is terribly wrong. This hip, funny, and thought-provoking novel will delight Crais' growing legion of fans, and the fist-shaking, high-fiving conclu sion offers at least the hope of ultimate justice when our system fails.
Kirkus Reviews
LAPD Detective Angela Rossi says she recovered the hammer that killed Susan Martin from her husband's shrubbery, but Teddy Martin's lawyer, Jonathan Green, says Rossi planted it there, and hires Elvis Cole (Voodoo River, 1995, etc.) to find holes in her story. For once, though, Elvis is stymied. Though LeCedrick Earle insists Rossi set him up too five years ago, Earle's own mother tells Cole he can't be trusted; and there's no other evidence that Rossi's rotten. So Cole, still working with the Big Green Defense Team, turns to following up callers to Green's hotline, and this time he hits the jackpot much too fast: A witness puts him on to a pair of lowlifes who talked about kidnapping some rich bitch and had photos of Susan Martin in their apartment. Only trouble is, the lowlifes have been dead for three weeks. It's a setup, of course, and Cole, already disoriented by the adoring media attention he's been getting ever since breaking open the case against Martin, now finds himself switching sides to go up—along with his sunglassed sidekick Joe Pike and his newest belle Lucy Chenier—against Martin, Green, and Co. But Green isn't a lawyer for nothing; he knows every trick about distancing himself and his client from the crime by avoiding incriminating papers and shredding incriminating witnesses. How is Cole ever going to bag such a slick pair?

That's the question, sports fans, and if Cole's answer isn't quite as satisfying as he'd like, he has as grand a time as Travis McGee fighting the forces of evil. Crais's sixth is one of his smoothest.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345454942
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 1/25/2005
  • Series: Elvis Cole Series , #6
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 352
  • Sales rank: 95,493
  • Product dimensions: 4.34 (w) x 6.68 (h) x 0.99 (d)

Meet the Author

Robert Crais
Robert Crais is the 2006 recipient of the Ross Macdonald Literary Award. He is the author of numerous New York Times bestsellers, including The Two Minute Rule, The Forgotten Man, and L.A. Requiem.

Biography

Los Angeles is known as the city of dreams, largely because so many Americans dream of breaking into the Hollywood film and television industry. In 1976, Robert Crais went west from Louisiana to pursue that very dream. As it turned out, he became one of the lucky few to break into the industry in a big way. Crais has since written for such hugely popular TV shows as Quincy, Cagney and Lacey, Miami Vice, Hill Street Blues, and L.A. Law, just to name a few. However, after achieving such success (which included a prestigious Emmy nomination) in a business that so many would give everything to break into, Robert Crais decided to step away and pursue his true dream. Frustrated by the collaborative process that comes with screenwriting, and inspired by pulp-pioneers such as Raymond Chandler, Crais became a mystery novelist. With his massively popular Elvis Cole/Joe Pike mysteries series, it seems as though success has a funny way of following Crais no matter what he decides to do.

Crais published his very first novel in 1987. The Monkey's Raincoat introduced mystery fans to Elvis Cole and Joe Pike, a pair of L.A. private investigators who would become his most-beloved recurring characters. Crais's transition from screenwriting to novel-writing was an astoundingly smooth one. The Monkey's Raincoat earned him nominations for the Edgar, Anthony, Shamus, and Macavity awards, winning both the Anthony and Macavity for "Best Novel of the Year." Crais's publisher was so overjoyed by the novel's success that he encouraged Crais to keep the Cole/Pike team going. "I started writing these books to get away from writing other people's concepts, like TV and movies," Crais told Barnes&Noble.com. "I never expected to write these guys as a series...but the book proved to be so popular and the characters were so popular that my publisher wanted more." What followed was a series of bestselling mysteries, including Stalking the Angel (1989), Free Fall (1993), L.A. Requiem (1999), and last year's The Forgotten Man.

Although the series was not part of Crais's original plan, he still seems to hold the Cole and Pike team closer to his heart than anything he has previously written. He explained, "The characters have deepened, and I think they kind of reflect what's going on with me and the world as I see it." When asked about whether or not we can expect to see the crime-solving buddies on the big screen anytime soon, he said, "I think I would have a difficult time in the collaborative process when other people suddenly put their fingerprints on Elvis and Joe," further illustrating his personal feelings for his P.I. team.

As much as Crais loves his series, he does occasionally write novels outside of the Cole/Pike world. His latest, The Two-Minute Rule, tells the story of career criminal Max Holman, a recently released-from-prison bank robber who finds himself hunting an entirely different kind of criminal after his son is gunned down. The book has since raked in positive reviews from such publications as Booklist, Publisher's Weekly, and The Library Journal. While The Two-Minute Rule does not feature Cole and Pike, Crais fans will notice one significant similarity between his latest novel and his famous series -- the Los Angeles setting. "I can't think of a better place to set crime novels because of what Los Angeles is. Los Angeles is the main where the nation goes to make its dreams come true. When you have a place like that where so many people are risking their very identities, not just money and cash, but they're risking who they are because it's their hopes and dreams, when you have that kind of tension and that kind of friction, you can't help but have crime."

Fortunately, Crais will never have to succumb to such friction and tension since, for a success story such as he, Los Angeles completely lived up to its promise of being the city of dreams.

Good To Know

Some fun and fascinating outtakes from our interview with Crais:

"My first job was cleaning dog kennels. It was especially, ah, aromatic during those hot, humid Louisiana summers, but it prepared me for Hollywood."

"My fiction is almost always inspired by a character's need or desire to rise above him-or herself. No one is perfect and some of us have much adversity in our lives; it is those people who struggle to rise above their nature or background that I find the most interesting and heroic."

"Fun details? Like Elvis Cole, I have a dry sense of humor. Sometimes I am so dry that people don't know I'm kidding and think I'm being serious. I enjoy this because their reactions are often funny. Also, I wear beautifully colored shirts like Elvis Cole, only I was wearing them before him. People will say, ‘Look, RC dresses just like Elvis Cole,' and I'll say, 'No, Elvis Cole dresses like me!' I also wear sunglasses like Joe Pike, but not indoors and not at night."

"Elvis Cole wrote two episodes of television. No lie. It happened like this: I had written episodes of Miami Vice and Jag that were rewritten by person or persons unknown -- changed so badly that I didn't want my name on them, so I used Elvis Cole's name as a pen name."

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    1. Hometown:
      Los Angeles, California
    1. Date of Birth:
      June 20, 1953
    2. Place of Birth:
      Baton Rouge, Louisiana
    1. Education:
      B.S., Louisiana State University, 1976; Clarion Writers Workshop at Michigan State University
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

1

Jonathan Green came to my office on a hazy June morning with an entourage of three attorneys, a videographer, and an intense young woman lugging eight hundred pounds of sound recording equipment. The videographer shoved past the attorneys and swung his camera around my office, saying, “This is just what we need, Jonathan! It’s real, it’s colorful, it’s L.A.!” He aimed his camera at me past the Mickey Mouse phone and began taping. “Pretend I’m not here.”

I frowned at him, and he waved toward the lawyers. “Don’t look at me. At them. Look at them.”

I looked at them. “What is this?” I was expecting Green and an attorney named Elliot Truly, but not the others. Truly had arranged the meeting.

A man in his mid-forties wearing an immaculately tailored blue Armani suit said, “Mr. Cole? I’m Elliot Truly. This is Jonathan Green. Thanks for seeing us.”

I shook hands with Truly first, then Green. Green looked exactly the way he had the two times I’d seen him on 60 Minutes, once when he defended an abortion rights activist accused of murder in Texas and once when he defended a wealthy textile manufacturer accused of murder in Iowa. The Texas case was popular and the Iowa case wasn’t, but both were victories for the defense.

The videographer scrambled backward across the office to fit us into his frame, the woman with the sound gear hustling to stay behind the camera as they captured the moment of our first meeting. Armstrong steps onto the moon; the Arabs and the Israelis sign a peace accord; Jonathan Green meets the private detective. The woman with the sound equipment bumped into my desk and the videographer slammed against the file cabinet. The little figures of Jiminy Cricket on the cabinet fell over and the framed photo of Lucy Chenier tottered. I frowned at him again. “Be careful.”

The videographer waved some more. “Don’t look at me! Not at me! You’ll ruin the shot!”

I said, “If you break anything, I’ll ruin more than the shot.”

Green seemed embarrassed. “This is tiresome, Elliot. We have business here, and I’m afraid we’re making a bad impression on Mr. Cole.”

Truly touched my arm, trying to mitigate the bad impression. “They’re from Inside News. They’re doing a six-part documentary on Jonathan’s involvement in the case.”

The woman with the sound equipment nodded. “The inner workings of the Big Green Defense Machine.”

I said, “Big Green Defense Machine?”

The videographer stopped taping and looked me up and down as if he found me lacking but wasn’t quite sure how. Then it hit him. “Don’t you have a gun?” He glanced around the office as if there might be one hanging on a wall hook.

“A gun?”

He looked at Truly. “He should be wearing a gun. One of those things under the arm.” He was a small man with furry arms.

Truly frowned. “A shoulder holster?”

The woman nodded. “A hat would be nice. Hats are romantic.”

I said, “Truly.”

Jonathan Green’s face clouded. “I apologize, Mr. Cole. They’ve been with us for the past week and it’s becoming offensive. If it bothers you, I’ll ask them to leave.”

The videographer grew frantic. “Hey, forget the gun. I was just trying to make it a little more entertaining, that’s all.” He crouched beside the watercooler and lifted his camera. “You won’t even know we’re here. I promise.”

Truly pursed his lips at me. My call.

I made a little shrug. “The people who come to me usually don’t want a record of what we discuss.”

Jonathan Green chuckled. “It may come to that, but let’s hope not.” He went to the French doors that open onto the little balcony, then looked at the picture of Lucy Chenier. “Very pretty. Your wife?”

“A friend.”

He nodded, approving. When he nodded, the two lesser attorneys nodded, too. No one had bothered to introduce them, but they didn’t seem to mind.

Jonathan Green sat in one of the leather director’s chairs across from my desk and the two lesser attorneys went to the couch. Truly stayed on his feet. The videographer noticed the Pinocchio clock on the wall, then hustled around to the opposite side of my desk so that he could get both me and the clock in the frame. The Pinocchio clock has eyes that move side to side as it tocks. Photogenic. Like Green.

Jonathan Green had a firm handshake, clear eyes, and a jawline not dissimilar to Dudley Do-Right’s. He was in his early sixties, with graying hair, a beach-club tan, and a voice that was rich and comforting. A minister’s voice. He wasn’t a handsome man, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that put you at ease. Jonathan Green was reputed to be one of the top five criminal defense attorneys in America, with a success rate in high-profile criminal defense cases of one hundred percent. Like Elliot Truly, Jonathan Green was wearing an impeccably tailored blue Armani suit. So were the lesser attorneys. Maybe they got a bulk discount. I was wearing impeccably tailored black Gap jeans, a linen aloha shirt, and white Reebok sneakers. Green said, “Did Elliot explain why we wanted to see you?”

“You represent Theodore Martin. You need investigators to help in the defense effort.” Theodore “Teddy” Martin had been arrested for Susan Martin’s murder and was awaiting trial. He had gone through two prior defense attorneys, hadn’t been happy with them, and had recently hired Jonathan Green. All the hirings and firings had been covered big time by the local media.

Green nodded. “That’s right. Mr. Cole, I’ve spoken at length with Teddy and I believe that he’s innocent. I want your help in proving it.”

I smiled. “Moi?”

The videographer edged in closer. I raised a finger at him. Unh-unh-unnh. He edged back.

Truly said, “We’ve talked to people, Mr. Cole. You’ve an outstanding reputation for diligence, and your integrity is above reproach.”

“How about that.” I glanced at the camera and wiggled my eyebrows. The videographer frowned and lowered the lens.

Jonathan Green leaned toward me, all business. “What do you know about the case?”

“I know what everybody knows. I watch the news.” You couldn’t read the Times or watch local television without knowing the business about James X and the five hundred thousand dollars and the dumpster. I’d heard Theodore Martin’s sound-bite version of it ten thousand times, but I’d also heard the DA’s sound-bite version, too, that Teddy and Susan weren’t getting along, that Susan had secretly consulted a divorce attorney and told a friend that she was planning a divorce, and that Teddy had offed her to keep her from walking away with half of his estimated one-hundred-twenty-million-dollar fortune. I said, “From what I hear, the police have a pretty good case.”

“They believe they have, yes. But I don’t think all the facts are in.” Green smiled and laced his fingers across a knee. It was a warm smile, tired and knowing. “Did you know that Teddy and Susan loved to cook?”

I shook my head. That one had slipped right by me.

“Teddy arrived home early that night, and they had no engagements, so the two of them decided to cook something elaborate and fun. They spent the next couple of hours making a pepper-roasted pork tenderloin with wild cherry sauce. Teddy makes the sauce with fresh cherries, only they didn’t have any, so he ran out to get some.”

Truly took a step toward me and ticked points off his fingers. “We have the receipt and the cashier whom Teddy paid. That’s where he was when Susan was kidnapped.”

Green spread his hands. “And then there’s the question of the money. What happened to the money?”

Truly ticked more fingers. “We have the bank transactions and the business manager. The manager says that Teddy was visibly shaken when he came for the money that Friday morning. He says Teddy was white as a sheet and his hands were shaking.”

Green nodded. “Yet the cashier remembers that Teddy was relaxed and happy a dozen hours earlier.” Green stood and went back to the balcony. The videographer followed him. At the French doors he turned back to me and spread his hands again. I wondered if he thought he was in court. “And then we have the murder weapon and the crime scene evidence.”

Truly ticked more fingers. He had used up one hand and was starting on the next. “There were fingerprints on the hammer, but none of them match Teddy. There were also fingerprints on the garbage bags that Susan was in, but those don’t match Teddy, either.”

I said, “You think he’s innocent because of that?”

Green came back to the director’s chair, but this time he didn’t sit. He stood behind it, resting his hands on the wooden posts that hold the back. “Mr. Cole, I don’t win the number of cases that I do because I’m good. I turn down ten cases every day, cases that would bill millions of dollars, because I will not represent people I believe to be guilty.”

The videographer went down to the floor for a low-angle shot, the woman with the sound equipment with him, and I heard him mumble, “Oh, man, this is great.”

Green said, “I don’t represent drug dealers or child molesters. I only take cases that I believe in, so that every time I walk into court I have the moral high ground.”

I leaned back and put my foot on the edge of my desk. “And you believe that Teddy is innocent.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” He came around to the front of the chair and tapped his chest. “In here I know he’s innocent.”

The videographer muttered, “This is fabulous,” and scrambled around to keep Jonathan Green in the shot.

Green sat and leaned toward me, elbows on knees. “I don’t yet know all the facts. I need people like you to help me with that. But I do know that we’ve received several calls that are disturbing.”

Elliot Truly said, “Have you heard of our tip line?”

“I’ve seen the ads.” Green’s office was running television, radio, and print ads offering a reward of one hundred thousand dollars for anything leading to the capture, arrest, and conviction of James X. There was a number you could call.

Green said, “We’ve received over twenty-six hundred calls and there are more every day. We try to weed out the cranks as quickly as possible, but the workload is enormous.”

I cleared my throat and tried to look professional. “Okay. You need help running these things down.”

Green raised his eyebrows. “Yes, but there’s more to it than that. Several of the callers have indicated that one of the arresting officers has a history of fabricating cases.”

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Table of Contents

Read More Show Less

First Chapter

1

Jonathan Green came to my office on a hazy June morning with an entourage of three attorneys, a videographer, and an intense young woman lugging eight hundred pounds of sound recording equipment. The videographer shoved past the attorneys and swung his camera around my office, saying, "This is just what we need, Jonathan! It's real, it's colorful, it's L.A.!" He aimed his camera at me past the Mickey Mouse phone and began taping. "Pretend I'm not here."

I frowned at him, and he waved toward the lawyers. "Don't look at me. At them. Look at them."

I looked at them. "What is this?" I was expecting Green and an attorney named Elliot Truly, but not the others. Truly had arranged the meeting.

A man in his mid-forties wearing an immaculately tailored blue Armani suit said, "Mr. Cole? I'm Elliot Truly. This is Jonathan Green. Thanks for seeing us."

I shook hands with Truly first, then Green. Green looked exactly the way he had the two times I'd seen him on 60 Minutes, once when he defended an abortion rights activist accused of murder in Texas and once when he defended a wealthy textile manufacturer accused of murder in Iowa. The Texas case was popular and the Iowa case wasn't, but both were victories for the defense.

The videographer scrambled backward across the office to fit us into his frame, the woman with the sound gear hustling to stay behind the camera as they captured the moment of our first meeting. Armstrong steps onto the moon; the Arabs and the Israelis sign a peace accord; Jonathan Green meets the private detective. The woman with the sound equipment bumped into my desk and the videographer slammed against the file cabinet. The littlefigures of Jiminy Cricket on the cabinet fell over and the framed photo of Lucy Chenier tottered. I frowned at him again. "Be careful."

The videographer waved some more. "Don't look at me! Not at me! You'll ruin the shot!"

I said, "If you break anything, I'll ruin more than the shot."

Green seemed embarrassed. "This is tiresome, Elliot. We have business here, and I'm afraid we're making a bad impression on Mr. Cole."

Truly touched my arm, trying to mitigate the bad impression. "They're from Inside News. They're doing a six-part documentary on Jonathan's involvement in the case."

The woman with the sound equipment nodded. "The inner workings of the Big Green Defense Machine."

I said, "Big Green Defense Machine?"

The videographer stopped taping and looked me up and down as if he found me lacking but wasn't quite sure how. Then it hit him. "Don't you have a gun?" He glanced around the office as if there might be one hanging on a wall hook.

"A gun?"

He looked at Truly. "He should be wearing a gun. One of those things under the arm." He was a small man with furry arms.

Truly frowned. "A shoulder holster?"

The woman nodded. "A hat would be nice. Hats are romantic."

I said, "Truly."

Jonathan Green's face clouded. "I apologize, Mr. Cole. They've been with us for the past week and it's becoming offensive. If it bothers you, I'll ask them to leave."

The videographer grew frantic. "Hey, forget the gun. I was just trying to make it a little more entertaining, that's all." He crouched beside the watercooler and lifted his camera. "You won't even know we're here. I promise."

Truly pursed his lips at me. My call.

I made a little shrug. "The people who come to me usually don't want a record of what we discuss."

Jonathan Green chuckled. "It may come to that, but let's hope not." He went to the French doors that open onto the little balcony, then looked at the picture of Lucy Chenier. "Very pretty. Your wife?"

"A friend."

He nodded, approving. When he nodded, the two lesser attorneys nodded, too. No one had bothered to introduce them, but they didn't seem to mind.

Jonathan Green sat in one of the leather director's chairs across from my desk and the two lesser attorneys went to the couch. Truly stayed on his feet. The videographer noticed the Pinocchio clock on the wall, then hustled around to the opposite side of my desk so that he could get both me and the clock in the frame. The Pinocchio clock has eyes that move side to side as it tocks. Photogenic. Like Green.

Jonathan Green had a firm handshake, clear eyes, and a jawline not dissimilar to Dudley Do-Right's. He was in his early sixties, with graying hair, a beach-club tan, and a voice that was rich and comforting. A minister's voice. He wasn't a handsome man, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that put you at ease. Jonathan Green was reputed to be one of the top five criminal defense attorneys in America, with a success rate in high-profile criminal defense cases of one hundred percent. Like Elliot Truly, Jonathan Green was wearing an impeccably tailored blue Armani suit. So were the lesser attorneys. Maybe they got a bulk discount. I was wearing impeccably tailored black Gap jeans, a linen aloha shirt, and white Reebok sneakers. Green said, "Did Elliot explain why we wanted to see you?"

"You represent Theodore Martin. You need investigators to help in the defense effort." Theodore "Teddy" Martin had been arrested for Susan Martin's murder and was awaiting trial. He had gone through two prior defense attorneys, hadn't been happy with them, and had recently hired Jonathan Green. All the hirings and firings had been covered big time by the local media.

Green nodded. "That's right. Mr. Cole, I've spoken at length with Teddy and I believe that he's innocent. I want your help in proving it."

I smiled. "Moi?"

The videographer edged in closer. I raised a finger at him. Unh-unh-unnh. He edged back.

Truly said, "We've talked to people, Mr. Cole. You've an outstanding reputation for diligence, and your integrity is above reproach."

"How about that." I glanced at the camera and wiggled my eyebrows. The videographer frowned and lowered the lens.

Jonathan Green leaned toward me, all business. "What do you know about the case?"

"I know what everybody knows. I watch the news." You couldn't read the Times or watch local television without knowing the business about James X and the five hundred thousand dollars and the dumpster. I'd heard Theodore Martin's sound-bite version of it ten thousand times, but I'd also heard the DA's sound-bite version, too, that Teddy and Susan weren't getting along, that Susan had secretly consulted a divorce attorney and told a friend that she was planning a divorce, and that Teddy had offed her to keep her from walking away with half of his estimated one-hundred-twenty-million-dollar fortune. I said, "From what I hear, the police have a pretty good case."

"They believe they have, yes. But I don't think all the facts are in." Green smiled and laced his fingers across a knee. It was a warm smile, tired and knowing. "Did you know that Teddy and Susan loved to cook?"

I shook my head. That one had slipped right by me.

"Teddy arrived home early that night, and they had no engagements, so the two of them decided to cook something elaborate and fun. They spent the next couple of hours making a pepper-roasted pork tenderloin with wild cherry sauce. Teddy makes the sauce with fresh cherries, only they didn't have any, so he ran out to get some."

Truly took a step toward me and ticked points off his fingers. "We have the receipt and the cashier whom Teddy paid. That's where he was when Susan was kidnapped."

Green spread his hands. "And then there's the question of the money. What happened to the money?"

Truly ticked more fingers. "We have the bank transactions and the business manager. The manager says that Teddy was visibly shaken when he came for the money that Friday morning. He says Teddy was white as a sheet and his hands were shaking."

Green nodded. "Yet the cashier remembers that Teddy was relaxed and happy a dozen hours earlier." Green stood and went back to the balcony. The videographer followed him. At the French doors he turned back to me and spread his hands again. I wondered if he thought he was in court. "And then we have the murder weapon and the crime scene evidence."

Truly ticked more fingers. He had used up one hand and was starting on the next. "There were fingerprints on the hammer, but none of them match Teddy. There were also fingerprints on the garbage bags that Susan was in, but those don't match Teddy, either."

I said, "You think he's innocent because of that?"

Green came back to the director's chair, but this time he didn't sit. He stood behind it, resting his hands on the wooden posts that hold the back. "Mr. Cole, I don't win the number of cases that I do because I'm good. I turn down ten cases every day, cases that would bill millions of dollars, because I will not represent people I believe to be guilty."

The videographer went down to the floor for a low-angle shot, the woman with the sound equipment with him, and I heard him mumble, "Oh, man, this is great."

Green said, "I don't represent drug dealers or child molesters. I only take cases that I believe in, so that every time I walk into court I have the moral high ground."

I leaned back and put my foot on the edge of my desk. "And you believe that Teddy is innocent."

"Yes. Yes, I do." He came around to the front of the chair and tapped his chest. "In here I know he's innocent."

The videographer muttered, "This is fabulous," and scrambled around to keep Jonathan Green in the shot.

Green sat and leaned toward me, elbows on knees. "I don't yet know all the facts. I need people like you to help me with that. But I do know that we've received several calls that are disturbing."

Elliot Truly said, "Have you heard of our tip line?"

"I've seen the ads." Green's office was running television, radio, and print ads offering a reward of one hundred thousand dollars for anything leading to the capture, arrest, and conviction of James X. There was a number you could call.

Green said, "We've received over twenty-six hundred calls and there are more every day. We try to weed out the cranks as quickly as possible, but the workload is enormous."

I cleared my throat and tried to look professional. "Okay. You need help running these things down."

Green raised his eyebrows. "Yes, but there's more to it than that. Several of the callers have indicated that one of the arresting officers has a history of fabricating cases."
Read More Show Less

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 27 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 15, 2014

    As good as youwould expect from crais

    Tongue in cheek humor throughout, twists and turns, and always the interesting relationship between Cole and Pike. Read it!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 14, 2014

    Great book

    Robert has it down. You get into the book from the start and it keeps you until the end. All of Roberts books are a must read.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 6, 2005

    SIX STARS OR MORE

    I recently picked up a Crais book for the first time. Outstanding. Accordingly, I then got the order of publication and have methodically read them one after the other. All have been outstanding. And I just finished Sunset Express. This book is a CLASSIC. The best detective novel I have ever read. Publishers Weekly voted it a 'best book of the year' and they are right on target. Elvis and Joe are at the top of my list. Headed for the book store to buy several more and you SHOULD TOO. I rarely rate a book as ' a page turner not to be put down.' This book redefines that image. Do not pass Go, pick it up now and read it.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 8, 2005

    Buy it, read it, do it now.

    Great characters. Not perfect but just about human. Joe and Elvis are just about the best characters in fiction today. The stories leave me guessing. The locations are so descriptive I can just about feel the heat( and that feels good in the middle of winter in Minnesota) and just about smell the tar. If I ever visit Los Angeles I doubt that I will need a map.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 2, 2014

    Good, fast read, funny

    Good story. Keeps moving. Always with great humor.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 1, 2003

    Enjoyable Reading

    This was the first Robert Crais novel that I read and I enjoyed it. Elvis Cole is a likable character.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 15, 2014

    as usual his books are just great!

    When his books are purchased they are very good!!

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  • Posted May 16, 2014

    unexpected plots within plots

    Very good - I certainly didn't expect some of the plot twists in this mystery. I enjoyed this adventure almost as much as his "Suspect" novel.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 24, 2014

    〹Nebula〹

    Name: Actually Destinysoul<p>Rank:Warriors<p>Gender:Female<p>Looks:Pure white with beautiful blue eyes. Swift and lean, the tips of her ears and her back paws are ginger.<p>Persona:Sweet and kind, a natural mother. He will fight fiercely to protect kits. A swift descision maker, she is smart and a good problem solver.<p>History: She began her life alone, her mother died kitting. She quickly learned how to hunt. She was taken in by a bloodthirsty clan. There she learned how to fight and she was named Shade. She soon ran away and joined the Revolution. Once there she bloodied her paws with the blood of many cats. When a kit was mistreated her true nature returned and she became Destinysoul. She went to Darkclan with Winterkit. She ran away from that clan.<p>Kin:Scourge,Father, Deceased. Spiritstar, Mother, Deceased. Kits Blue, Rage, and Void are deceased.<p>Theme Song: The Dark Inside Of Me<p>Sig: Destinysoul&#12345

    0 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 22, 2014

    Dawnstar [Bio]

    Name: Look above!!!!, Moons: 12, Gender: She-cat, Pelt: pretty Fire-ginger pelt with Black paws and ears also black tiped tail, Eye color: Pearcing green eyes, Mate: Forbeden, Crush: Same, Kits: Same, Personality: Kind, Careing, Never forgets Ceremonys, Nice, Loyal, Sacrafices lifes untill the end, Gives all lifes to clan, Normal leader., Warrior name: Dawnfur, Kins: Moonflower(mother), Redash(Father), Silverpelt(sister), Goldenfur(brother), History: Clan died out so i rebuilded it. Dont whant it for attention. Anything eles just ask. Sig:|*~|Dawnstar|~*

    0 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 22, 2014

    Prismsky

    Name: Prismsky. Nickname: Prism or Sky. Rank: warrior. Apperance: a white she-cat with ginger paws, gray and silver spots, and scarlet red spot around her left eye. Persona: She loes to play and goof around. Yet, at the same time, she is strict and respected. If you get on her bad side, she will treat you poorly and ignore you. Mate: nope. Crush: single ready to mingle! Kits: I wish. Other: wants to be depity.

    0 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 23, 2010

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    Posted January 23, 2010

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 23, 2010

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    Posted January 20, 2010

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    Posted August 10, 2010

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 5, 2014

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 17, 2011

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 26, 2014

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 23, 2014

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 27 Customer Reviews

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