A policeman on his nightly rounds in one of the most exclusive residential areas of Chicago hears a shot -- but prompt investigation yields no clues, no victim, and no witnesses. Still, Detective Sergeant Morgan soon determines that something has happened and someone has disappeared, leaving only the slenderest of clues. Will he get to the bottom of this Uptown mystery?
ner's inquiring and investigative turn of mind. His interest in his profession was also indicated by several volumes on criminology, and even popular detective stories of the day. In the center of the room was a commodious table with a large reading lamp. Beside the table was the big easy chair in which Morgan always sat, and where many of the solutions of difficult criminal problems had been worked out by him. Just across from this easy chair, and within reach of an outstretched hand, stood a tabouret, holding the telephone.
On the morning following the peculiar occurrence on Sheridan Road, Morgan was sitting in his favorite chair. His slippered feet were stretched before him and clouds of smoke hung about as he puffed at his favorite pipe, selected from a row of about ten that were hanging on a nearby home-made pipe holder. This might be said to be an eventful day for Dave Morgan. Only the day before, he and his partner, Detective Sergeant Tierney, had completed the solving of a baffling case and pla
A shot rings out at 2 a.m. near the corner of Lawrence Avenue and Sheridan Road in Chicago. Investigating, police find a vacant apartment with a blood-stained carpet in a building full of mysterious tenants.
At first, it's a job for Sgt. Dave Morgan, the Chicago PD's ace detective (who lives with his white-haired mother and wakes her up in the mornings to cook his breakfast). Then a Secret Service man unexpectedly takes over.
The Thornes' stilted and amateurish writing has a plodding simplicity: "'Mother,' he called. 'The Chief has just 'phoned me that they have the biggest case for me that I ever handled. I must go down at once.'"
They describe Chicago as if they worked from a map, without ever having been there, with such scintillating detail as, "Morgan ... returned down the alley to Lawrence Avenue where he turned west and walked over to Broadway," and "We trailed down Sheridan Road, through Lincoln Park, and on to Michigan Avenue...."
They don't neglect to moralize: "A really clever man is also clever enough to know that it doesn't pay to be a criminal."
It doesn't pay to read this book.
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