Hello and a very warm welcome to my hairy blog 😁
#Fahrenbruary* continues on at a pace and so today I present to you a repost of my review of the 2nd book in this wonderful, wonderful series. This review originally appeared last year on the blog tour organised by the rather splendid, and all round ace blogger and blog tour organiser, Emma Welton, aka @damppebbles over on that Twitter (check her out here too… https://damppebbles.com/damppebbles-blog-tours/)
*if you’re not sure what #Fahrenbruary is all about, check out my post… HERE
Stalking your latest PI job through the streets of Paris you pass several cafés, resisting the temptation to enter each one and have a small snifter of Cognac. Then, suddenly, you spy your quarry darting into a small alleyway. Quickly, you begin to cross the road eager to catch him before he slips through your fingers again.
From out of nowhere one of those newfangled autos passes behind you, belching exhaust smoke into the air and almost running into you, developing you in its smog. When will they ban these infernal contraptions? What’s wrong with the tram, train or the velocipede? As you regain your composure you realise that you have lost sight of your man. Drat! As the smoke clears, coughing and eyes stinging, you see something on the wall opposite you. You can’t make it out at first, but as your eyes refocus you see with some surprise that the writing scrawled on the wall of the alley is a… blurb:
Arty Homebrook lived and died in a world of sleaze which stretched from Chicago to Paris but never beyond the gutter.
He’d been sleeping with Madame Fulton, which is why Harry Fulton promised to kill him. So far as the Paris Police are concerned it’s an open and shut case. Harry’s father has other ideas and hires Salazar to investigate.
As Salazar gets to grips with the case he’s dragged reluctantly into an unpleasant underworld of infidelity, blackmail, backstreet abortions and murder.
Salazar is far too inquisitive to walk away and far too stubborn to know what’s for the best. So he wakes up each hungover morning, blinks into the sunlight, and presses on until it’s his life on the line. Then he presses on some more, just for the hell of it.