By John D. MacDonald
From a loved grasp of crime fiction, vivid Orange for the Shroud is one of the vintage novels that includes Travis McGee, the hard-boiled detective who lives on a houseboat.
Travis McGee is asking ahead to a “slob summer,” spending his days as far-off from probability as attainable. yet hassle has a manner of discovering him, irrespective of the place he hides. An previous good friend, conned out of his lifestyles rate reductions by way of his ex-wife, has tracked him down and is determined for aid. To get the money again and earn his ordinary expense, McGee should penetrate the Everglades—and the brain of a violently twisted grifter.
“John D. MacDonald used to be the good entertainer of our age, and a spell binding storyteller.”—Stephen King
McGee hasn't ever visible a guy so replaced by way of twelve months of existence. Arthur Wilkinson have been an amiable and respectable younger guy trying to make investments a few of his substantial inheritance in a marina company. Then a stunning blonde named Wilma Ferner confirmed up. She used to be quickly Mrs. Wilkinson, and it took her just a 12 months to depart Arthur bankrupt and broken.
But what begins out as an easy task becomes a deadly state of affairs while McGee comes face-to-face with a quick-thinking and quicker-fisted foe within the Florida swamps. Now Arthur’s fortune isn’t the one factor at the line: This task may possibly suggest McGee’s life.
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Additional resources for Bright Orange for the Shroud (Travis McGee, Book 6)
But I myself am a reserve ofﬁcer in the . ’ The policeman jerked a heavy thumb toward the offending sticker. ’ ‘Yes, Ofﬁcer. Certainly, Ofﬁcer. ’ The manager started digging with his nails at the sticker’s corners, in an attempt to peel it off. He didn’t do so well, because Terran technical superiority extended even to common adhesives. After several futile efforts, the manager threw the cop an apologetic look, went inside, came out with a knife, and tried again. This time he succeeded in tearing a small triangle from each corner, leaving the message intact.
But his greatest protection would be the mental block in every Sirian’s mind: they wouldn’t suspect that an Earthman was masquerading as a Sirian because the idea was too ridiculous to contemplate. Satisﬁed that he ﬁtted his rôle, Mowry emerged from the shelter of the trees, walked boldly across the road, and from the other side made a careful study of his exit from the forest. It was essential that he be able to remember it speedily and accurately. The forest was the screen of camouﬂage around his bolt-hole and there was no telling when he might need to dive into it in a hurry.
The chances were equally good that they’d spread the news, and gossip is the same in every part of the mighty cosmos: it gains compound interest as it goes the rounds. Within five and a half hours he’d disposed of eighty stickers without being caught in the act of affixing them. He’d taken a few risks, had a few narrow squeaks, but never was seen performing the deed. What followed the planting of the fifty-sixth sticker gave him the most satisfaction. A minor collision on the street resulted in abusive shouts between drivers and drew a mob of onlookers.