L.a. Wars
“Wars twelve Lieutenant Detective Walter Flaherty, as Hawker soon learned, wasn’t the kind of man easily twisted around anyone’s finger.
He pulled up in an unmarked Ford behind the two squad cars, all three skidding to a halt on the sandy side street.
Flaherty was the last to get out. He wore a summer-weight tweed jacket and wrinkled slacks. He had the plain, benign face of a country priest. Thin brown, curly hair was visible beneath the woven Sussex hat that was pulled low—as if he expected rai...n. Flaherty had the overall appearance of a peaceful man on a European fishing vacation. He looked like a dull little clerk who wanted nothing more than to sit in some anonymous house and watch his children grow.
Except for his eyes. Hawker took one look at the man’s eyes and knew he would have to tread carefully. They were gray-green prisms that reflected shrewdness and wit and bulldog tenacity. Hawker felt the eyes survey him as the uniformed cops brushed by them to check the corpse. Flaherty nodded, studied Melanie St.MoreLess
He pulled up in an unmarked Ford behind the two squad cars, all three skidding to a halt on the sandy side street.
Flaherty was the last to get out. He wore a summer-weight tweed jacket and wrinkled slacks. He had the plain, benign face of a country priest. Thin brown, curly hair was visible beneath the woven Sussex hat that was pulled low—as if he expected rai...n. Flaherty had the overall appearance of a peaceful man on a European fishing vacation. He looked like a dull little clerk who wanted nothing more than to sit in some anonymous house and watch his children grow.
Except for his eyes. Hawker took one look at the man’s eyes and knew he would have to tread carefully. They were gray-green prisms that reflected shrewdness and wit and bulldog tenacity. Hawker felt the eyes survey him as the uniformed cops brushed by them to check the corpse. Flaherty nodded, studied Melanie St.MoreLess
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