He scratched his cheek nervously, scratched his temple, scratched his cheek again. His hands trembled and there was a lurching pain in his stomach. He slammed the door of the medicine chest shut. The descriptions of his drug withdrawal and craving are frequent and visceral. Yet, throughout the book he exposes himself to discovery by searching the streets for enough cash to buy his next hit.
Granted, he only discovers that Eileen (the dead signer) has been killed after his search for the drugs come up empty. Where is it? Where the hell did she put it? How much longer does a guy have to stand this? Jesus, how much longer do I have to wait for the day to begin? Where is it? Where did she put it? Sixteen ounces.
All right, this is far enough, I want it enough now, I want it pretty damn bad, I want it very much, too damn much, I need it right now. Instead, he is possessed with finding his next “shot” of a heroin needle: McBain makes it clear that the horror of violent death and the impending arrest for murder are not at the top of Stone’s mind. He also realizes that as a known “junkie,” the woman’s death would very likely be pinned on him by the police.
Knowing that the drug would have made him oblivious to whatever events happened in the hotel room after he passed out, he presumes his own innocence.
The singer he met in a jazz club obliged him with a night of sex and drug use, featuring a full 16 ounces of heroin to start partying with. Here, Ray Stone is a former piano prodigy whose free-wheeling lifestyle has led to a deeply ingrained opioid addiction. The idea of moral judgements toward characters is a potential problem area in pulp-style crime fiction see the comments underneath my review of Block’s Sinner Man (yet another book that starts off with substance abuse and a murdered woman). Gregory Manchess cover for Hard Case Crime.
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