Sandra Scoppettone - Too Darn Hot

Table of Contents For Linda If theres anything I dont like, its a smart-cracking dame. JACK PALANCE, in Panic in the StreetsPraise for TOO DARN HOT Fayes voice is again pitch perfect... a great imitation of the sort of dame Ida Lupino was born to play. Publishers Weekly A fun series that uses a light touch with noir convictions. Library Journal Cozy, fun, and fast-paced. Romantic Times Brimming over with big band music, hairdos in snoods, and unfiltered smokesthe same irresistible 1940s detail that made This Dame for Hire such a treatthe second adventure of indefatigable Faye solidifies her status as one of Sandra Scoppettones most appealing characters.

Fantastic Fiction Praise for THIS DAME FOR HIRE Faye Quick is a real hoot, a tough-talking, wise-cracking, lovable character in the mold of Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe. Scoppettone also does a bang-up job of re-creating New York City of the World War II era, a rich setting for a mystery story. Chicago Sun-Times The author hits the ground running with the appealing, savvy Faye and her network of cops and friends. The strong characters are complemented by Scoppettones insightful look at World War II New York. Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel Spending time with This Dame for Hire is like time-traveling to the 1940s. Sandra Scoppettone doesnt merely write about New York during World War II; she takes us there, and every minute of the trip is believable and enjoyable.

Faye Quick is a terrific, sassy, new voice. Lets hope for more of herquickly! GILLIAN ROBERTS Funny, tender, historically fascinating, This Damefor Hire has something for mystery readers of every kind. ED GORMAN This Dame for Hire launches an endearing sleuth who wisecracks, totes a gat when needed, and tells it like she sees it in a superbly rendered World War II Manhattan. CAROLYN HART ONE Yeah, it was hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. I never could understand why people said that. Did somebody fry one then eat it? Whod wanna eat a fried egg from the sidewalk? Especially in a city like New York.

Maybe Id try it. Not the eating part, the frying. But then people would think I was more of a screwball than they did already. Nah. That wasnt true. Nobody thought I was loose in the upper story.

Its just that most people didnt understand why a dame like me would wanna be a PI. And it wasnt that I set out to be. Its just the way it turned out. In 1940 Woody Mason hired me as a secretary for his A Detective Agency. He was a PI. But then in 41, when the Nips hit Pearl Harbor, Woody felt he should do his duty for his country and left me to run the agency.

That was two years ago and the war still wasnt over. The office is on Forty-third Street between Seventh and Eighth. A few months ago the agency moved one flight up so now I had my own office and a proper waiting room where my secretary, Birdie Ritter, sat. Id had two murders since last spring, solved them both. The first one was prime and it got a lotta attention in the fish wrappers, so I had a bunch of clients for a while. Just cause people saw my name in the paper they figured I was the best (which I might be) and they hired me for everything from finding a dog to solving another murder.

Not bad for a twenty-six-year-old gal from Newark, New Jersey. Even though the rush was over my dance card was full at the moment, so when Birdie knocked on my door and said I had a possible client in the outer office, I wasnt overjoyed. Guy or gal? Gal. Shes cryin, Faye. Theyre always cryin. Ah, dont be a tough tootsie with me.

I got yer number, ya know. And she did. Always. Birdie kept me honest, like they say. She was the cats whiskers, far as I was concerned. And she was also whistle bait, a tall blonde with brown eyes that screamed Come get me, even though she wasnt that kinda girl.

So whats her can a peas? I asked. She didnt gimme particulars. I could hardly make out what she was sayin through the waterworks. Somethin about a guy. What else would it be? Yeah. So will ya see her? Ya know I will.

Whats her moniker? Claire Turner. Least I think thats what she said. Okay, bring her in. Will do. Bird? Yeah? That dress yer wearin is easy on the eyes. Yeah. Yeah.

Pete bought it for me. Pete. I thought ya were gonna dump the bum. I tried, Faye. We had a lollapalooza the other night and when we made up, Pete came round with this getup. What could a girl do? Well, it suits ya to a T. And it did, with the colorful butterflies on white cotton and a diamond cutout below the neck. Thanks.

I better get the jane waitin out there before she floods the office. Birdie and Peted been on and off since Id known her, which wasnt that long, come to think of it. But shed told me theyd been seeing each other for a few years and it was always a battle. Pete wanted to get married and Birdie didnt, which was the source of most of their rhubarbs. In a mo she was back with Claire Turner. You got yer lookers and you got yer lookers.

This Turner broad was the real thing. She was a long drink of water, maybe five feet nine inches. I knew being just shy of five four sometimes gave me a skewed slant on height, but this was one tall cookie. Her hair was black and wavy, flowing down to her shoulders, and the ends blew a little from the standing fan I had going. She had a body that looked to have perfect measurements and it was wrapped in a white suit, short padded jacket with a pink blouse underneath. Her eyes were almond-shaped and that shade of blue close to lavender.

Also they were slightly pink from crying. She had full lips painted ruby red. And when she spoke one dimple creased her right cheek. I pegged her to be about twenty-two or -three. Miss Quick? Yeah. I stood up and held out my hand.

She took it and gave it a fast squeeze like she might get typhoid if she held it too long. Broads didnt go in much for handshaking. But I did it anyway cause it always got them a little off kilter. Miss Turner, is it? Yes. Claire Turner. Her voice was husky.

Please have a seat, Miss Turner. She took the green leather chair in front of my desk. Since my fortunes had risen and wed moved, Id done some decorating to make the agency look more like a real office instead of a toy to go with the trains under a Christmas tree. She opened her white pocketbook and took out a pack of white Lucky Strikes, cause Lucky Strike green had gone to war. I didnt know what the green was doing over there, but that was the deal. While she fussed with them I got a Camel from my pack and was ready with a match when she put the cig between her lips.

What can I do for ya, Miss Turner? Im not sure anyone can do anything for me, she said. If I had a nickel for every potential client who said something like that Id be one rich girl. Why did they come here if thats what they thought? Tell me whats on yer mind and well see what I can do. Its my boyfriend. Hes disappeared. How unusual, I thought.

Then I told myself I was getting much too cynical. Go on. Ive been to the police, but they dont pay any attention to what I have to say. Well, Im gonna pay attention so tell me everything. Lets start with his name. Charlie Ladd.

Private Charlie Ladd. Hes in the army? Yeah. I put my finger inside the roll at the bottom of my hair and gave it a little flip. So when ya say disappeared, ya dont mean hes missin in action, do ya? Oh, no. He was here on leave for a week. He arrived on Saturday.