By E. J. Olsen, Jon C. Hocking
From crime tales within the vintage hard-boiled type to the vividly experimental, from the choice of these risking every thing to the desperation of these with not anything left to lose, Detroit Noir can provide unforgettable stories that seize the city’s darkish vitality.Includes tales by way of: Joyce Carol Oates, Loren D. Estleman, Craig Holden, P.J. Parrish, Desiree Cooper, Nisi scarf, M.L. Liebler, Craig Bernier, Joe Boland, Megan Abbott, Dorene O’Brien, Lolita Hernandez, Peter Markus, Roger okay. Johnson, Michael Zadoorian, and E.J. Olsen.
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Extra info for Detroit Noir
It wasn’t the first time in nine years of marriage that Charles had ceased to love Camille, she knew. For he was a ridiculous man. Immature, wayward in emotion, uncertain of himself, anxious-competitive in his profession, frightened. He was vain. He was childish. Though highly intelligent, sharp-witted. At times, handsome. And tender. He had a habit of frowning, grimacing, pulling at his lips, that Camille found exasperating, yet, even so, he was an attractive man. He was shrewd, though he lacked an instinctive sense of others.
Having to concede he hadn’t seen a license plate. Had not noticed the name of the school district. No distinguishing features on the bus except it was an old bus, probably not a 33 suburban school bus, certainly not a private school bus, very likely an inner-city bus, rust-flecked, filthy, emitting exhaust. No, he had not gotten a very good look at the boys: dark-skinned, he thought. But hadn’t seen clearly. In the kitchen, Camille seemed to be opening and shutting drawers compulsively as if looking for something that eluded her.
But the driver interrupted her thoughts. “A fine idea, Mester McGinniss,” he said, as if he was the one to decide those sorts of things. ” No one else on the road before them or behind them, and the driver took advantage of that to step on the gas again. What was the man’s name? Farmer, she recalled, and was ready to speak up sharp to him, white or not, when he slowed down. Way down. He grinned back over his shoulder at the boy, a nervous grin not coming anywhere near his pale eyes. ” he asked.