It happened in Hotel Duarte, a bullet length from the Great White Way, where life begins at eight-forty - and often ends by midnight with a couple of murders.
For instance, the murder of a dumb welterweight who took his dive - and got paid off in lead.
He was the brother of Johnny Killain’s gal, and that was pure bad luck for the fight mob - because Killain went in swinging with no referee to call him off.
This great big deadly weapon of a man knew every dirty punch ever invented—and he would use them all to find the killer . . .
