The Last Honest Thing
Chicago in 1947 was a city of smoke, rain, and secrets. Frank had been a detective for twenty years, but he had spent the last ten investigating the very people who signed his paychecks. He had seen too many "accidents" and too many "suicides" that looked remarkably like murders. Eventually, he had simply stopped caring. He retired to a dusty shop in the slums, selling used books and repairing...
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