Cat Chaser: A Novel
“Cat Chaser is just what one would expect from Elmore Leonard—quirky, peopled with oddball characters…and more twists and turns than a roller coaster.”
—Cleveland Plain Dealer
“A superior example of gritty writing and violent action.”
—New York Times
There are numerous reasons why Grand Master Elmore Leonard is considered “the coolest, hottest thriller writer in America” (Chicago Tribune) and “the greatest crime writer of our time, perhaps ever” (New York Times Book Review). Cat Chaser is one of them. A gripping, lightning-paced tale of an ex-soldier-turned Florida motel owner whose dangerous affair with the mistress of a Dominican general in exile—a former death squad leader—threatens to have lethal consequences…especially when drugs, double-cross, and murderous mob thugs are added into the mix. A classic thriller from crime fiction master who first brought us U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens, currently of TV’s Justified, Cat Chaser proves once more that when the true greats of mystery and suspense are mentioned—John D. MacDonald, Dashiell Hammett, James M. Cain, Robert Parker, et al—Elmore Leonard tops the list.
. He also manages to put the fun back in adultery and . . .he has created a character—the loser we love too much for our own good—just as compelling as the one Raymond Chandler devised for The Long Goodbye.” New York Times “The debate over who’s the all-time king of the whack job crime novelists just ended. Living or dead, Elmore Leonard tops ’em all.” Ft. Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel “Elmore Leonard is the Alexander the Great of crime fiction.” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette “A first-rate
“That’s fine,” Mary said, though she didn’t seem quite sure about something. “I don’t have my luggage with me.” She looked at the clerk now for help. “It’s at Casa de Campo. If I give them a call, can you send someone to pick it up?” “Yes, but it’s seventy miles there,” the clerk said. “I don’t know how rapidly they can do it.” “Do the best you can,” Mary said. She filled out the registration card using her maiden name, Mary Delaney, and an address in Miami Beach off the top of her head,
But when he spoke to the clerk he was told, “Yes, Mr. Moran has checked out.” What about Mrs. Delaney? “Yes, she also.” Rafi said, “Did Moran leave a message—I’m sure he did—for Rafi Amado?” The desk clerk said, “Just a moment.” He came back to the phone and said, “No, there’s nothing for you here.” 9 * * * HE TALKED TO JERRY for a few minutes, left him whistling “Zing Went the Strings of My Heart” and as soon as he was in the bungalow Nolen’s smiling face appeared at the door.
anything. He wondered if Jiggs had slept in his seersucker coat. He wondered where Jiggs lived and wondered what he thought about when he was alone. “I’m gonna buy you a drink, George. How about the Mutiny up on Bayshore? You know where it is there? Cross from the yacht basin.” “Okay,” Moran said. The room was still nearly full in the early afternoon, the tables occupied by men in disco sport shirts with dark hair and mustaches, a few in business suits, some of them wearing their
in the same hotel five floors above her. Thinking of him now . . . “Sign it.” Andres was coming out of his walk-in closet carrying luggage, a full-size Louis Vuitton fabric suitcase in each hand. He swung them in Mary’s direction to drop in the middle of the floor. “Sign each copy. Then pack your clothes, everything you own, and get out.” He turned and went back into the closet. Mary picked up the legal papers, saw the heading, Amendment to PreNuptial Agreement, and glanced through the