Amos Walker doesn't mean to walk into trouble. But sometimes it finds him, regardless. The missing woman has left a handwritten note that said, "Don't look for me." Any P.I. would take that as a challenge, especially when he found out that she'd left the same message once before, when having an illicit affair.
But this time it's different. The trail leads Walker to an herbal remedies store, where the beautiful young clerk knows nothing about the dead body in the basement…or about any illegal activity that might be connected to the corpse. She is, however, interested in Walker's body, and he discovers he's interested in hers as well.
But he can't tarry long, for the Mafia could be involved…or maybe there's a connection to the porno film studio where the missing woman's former maid now works. But when two Mossad agents accost Walker—and then are brutally killed—he realizes he's discovered a plot far darker run by someone more deadly than either the Detroit Mafia or a two-bit porn pusher.
Who—or what—could be so viciously murderous? Walker has few clues, and knows only that with every new murder he is no closer to solving the case. When he finally gets a break, he recognizes the silken, deadly hand of a nemesis who nearly killed him twice before…and this time may finish the job.
In Loren D. Estleman's Don't Look For Me, Amos Walker's up to his neck in dames, drugs…and murder, again
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In Estleman's suspenseful, no-frills 23rd Amos Walker novel (after 2012's Burning Midnight), investment banker Alec Wynn asks the cynical Detroit private detective to find his missing wife, Cecelia, who disappeared, leaving behind a note simply stating, "Don't look for me." Walker starts with Wynn's ex-apprentice, who had an affair with Cecelia, but gets nowhere with him. With few leads, the detective tracks down the herbal remedies store that supplied Cecelia with a cabinet-full of pills, to see if anyone there has any idea of her whereabouts. The search has some unexpected twists, though readers of the genre won't be surprised when the case turns violent. Estleman has few peers when it comes to giving his world-weary PI downbeat Chandleresque lines ("I thought I heard a bird singing, but it turned out to be a sanitation truck backing up in the next block"), which complement a lean but engrossing plot and a plausibly human lead.
Customer ReviewsSee All
Estleman is a pro, and Amos is a lot of fun. Together They always deliver. I've stopped reading a lot of series writers because they get stale and go through the motions but not Estleman, which is why I keep buying the books.