By Joseph Hansen
Demise Claims is the second one of Joseph Hansen's acclaimed mysteries that includes ruggedly masculine Dave Brandstetter, a homosexual assurance investigator. while John Oats's physique is located washed up on a seashore, his younger lover April Stannard is certain it used to be no twist of fate. Brandstetter concurs: Oats's college-age son, the beneficiary of the existence insurance coverage, has long gone lacking.
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Sample text
Again? " His fingers turned the stubby glass in its circle of wet on the bar top. Blinking through smoke, he watched them. " She cocked a n eyebrow. "I thought you asked on the phone to stay over with me. " The ashtray was thick pewter stamped with a coat of arms. Hound and hooded hawk. He tapped his cigarette on it. " He shrugged. " "It's not that. You'd have driven from Tierra del Fuego to get back to Rod at night. And it's not your work you're tired of, either. If you'll permit me an educated guess, it's Doug.
The light went out, but she didn't come up. He waited a second, then he went down. She was wearing a man's corduroy jacket, much too big for her, the cuffs clumsily turned back. John Oats's jacket? She turned away and her voice sounded as if she'd been crying. "I was walking on the beach when I saw your headlights. " "I haven't found him. " She shook her head, stepped down onto the sand, moved off. "No. And that was fine when John was here. " He went with her down the softening slope of dimly white sand toward the black shift and whisper of the bay, its chill breathing.
Dave outside, above, hands jammed into car-coat pockets, shoulders hunched against wind that wrapped torn programs around his legswatching, thoughtful. "It was a little too real. Sure, you enjoyed it. But not that much. And not that way. You don't enjoy things that way. " She had a mouthful of tequila, lemon, salt. She shook her head, swallowed. "No, no. You mustn't think I don't like him. I do. " A hand touched his shoulder. He turned. A silver-haired man smiled deferentially. He wore a robe of brown velvet, ankle length, open down the front, gold-edged, with hanging sleeves.
