Tin Angel
PART 1
AFTER HOURS
When Lloyd McNeill piped the vamp to a tune by the Brazilian pianist Dom Salvador, the conversation level dropped to a low hum. Diamond Jim moved behind the bar in time to the music, improvising on his own keyboard: martini, bell, wine, champagne, cordial and brandy glasses that hung by their stems by dowels like notes waiting to be struck. There was standing room only now with tables full in the main room and in both cafes. I walked slowly from the rear, nodding to regulars, keeping a casual if proprietary eye on the waitresses and my doorman, Noah. Stepping into the Bowery Cafe, I glimpsed a shadow malingering outside and knew immediately it belonged to a pisser.
FLASH! FLASH! Just Published...reprint edition of
The Tin Angel
Paul Pines
Set in New York's Lower East Side in the 1970's, when it was fast becoming the heart of the cultural underground, jazz club owner Pablo Waitz, takes us on a journey in search of his partner's killer. If The Tin Angel offers a murder to be solved, a world of crime to be explored, it also offers a search for other truths. For both in murder and in life, Pablo discovers that the past can be as dangerous as the present.
The drug/jazz world of New York's East Village has seldom been rendered more honestly or graphically than in this fine first mystery.—Publishers Weekly"
I haven't read a grittier mystery in years… NY Daily News
It's hard to combine warmth and toughness, but Pines..succeeds. -Ms. Magazine
Available at fine bookstores everywhere and on :
For those of you interested in exploring the jazz world of the 70' on New York's lower East Side and missed it the first time, here is another opportunity to read one of the few books to capture the essence of that time and place
Reviews of The Tin Angel
This swift tale of murder and revenge rattled along stylishly and fulfills all our expectations for high-grade suspense.
The New York Times Book Review.
Superb...enough terror, suspense, and low-life atmosphere to keep the most jaded hard-boiled enthusiast happy.
The Washington Post
