Ed McBain Books

First it was the strange phone calls, then the bizarre photographs. The boys of the 87th Precinct knew their arch nemesis, The Deaf Man, was back in town. Even a gruesome crucifixion and a cat burglar who leaves live kittens as his calling card could not keep Carella, Ling, Hawes, and Brown from the torment of the Deaf Man's riddles. And time was running out.

A crime novel first published in 1964, in which Steve Carella of the 87th Precinct searches for a sniper who is killing innocent victims.

A blonde woman, a living doll, is found slashed to death. Steve Carella wants Bert King on the case, a belligerent cop. When he goes missing, presumed dead, the officers of the 87th Precinct go all out to find the truth.

A murder mystery from the 87TH PRECINCT series, first published in 1972, in which a detective discovers that the odd-shaped snapshot found clutched in a dead man's hand is a piece of deadly puzzle worth a suitcase of stolen cash.

For almost 50 years, fans of crime fiction have followed the boys of the 87th Precinct, a fictional urban police department precinct created by the novelist Evan Hunter, writing under the pseudonym Ed McBain.

Sees the return of the Deaf Man - taunting the boys of the 87th Precinct with enigmatic messages and ill deeds, specially for Christmas. The author also wrote "Lightning".

Steve Carella of the 87th Precinct faces the precinct's greatest foe, the Deaf Man, when the criminal returns to a life of crime in order to murder the city's graffiti artists

With its roots in the American private-detective fiction of the 1920s but traceable back as far as Sherlock Holmes, the private-eye story remains as popular as ever. Here are thirty of the finest short novels and stories from the hardboiled world of the private eye. The characters in this collection range from the tough, cynical, hard-drinking Philip Marlowe type to hard-hitting female sleuths and the one-armed intellectual Dan Fortune. This collection features old favorites and new contributions from masters of the genre, past and present, including Ross Macdonald, Raymond Chandler, Sue Grafton, Marcia Muller, Michael Collins, Ed McBain, William Campbell Gault, and many more.

There are 186 patrolmen and a handful of detectives in the 87th Precinct, but it's never quite enough. Because between petty crimes and major felonies, between crimes of hate and crimes of passion, the city never sleeps -- and for these cops, a day never ends... The night shift has a murdered go-go dancer, a firebombed black church, a house full of ghosts, and a mother trying to get her twenty-two year-old to come home. The day shift: a naked hippie lying smashed on the concrete, two murderous armed robbers in Halloween masks, and a man beaten senseless by four guys using sawed-off broom handles. Altogether, it's a day in the life. But for a certain cop in the 87th Precinct, it could just be his last...

"Bloody palmprints. He would always remember seeing first the bloody prints, one on each side of the glass-paneled doors. And then the doors swinging open and the girl spilling into the room. Arms wide, hands imploring . . . blue dress torn open over white blood-smeared bra, she lurched toward the muster desk, beseeching Kling to help, for God's sake, help." The girl was Patricia Lowery, fifteen years old. She was the lucky one. Soon after, they found her cousin, Muriel Stark, seventeen, lying in a doorway, her body ripped with knife wounds. Hysterically, Patricia talked to Detectives Steve Carella and Bert Kling of the 87th Precinct, telling her brutal story of molestation and murder. The man was tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed, she said; he had a knife blade four inches long, she would never forget what he looked like, what he made them do. Immediately, Kling and Carella set out to find the killer, launching interrogations, file searches, laboratory analyses -- all the weapons of investigation at their command. The twisting, blood-spotted trail leads them deep into the warped world of the sex offender. Then, click. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, phony alibi. And a positive identification from Patricia: "I said I'd never forget." There's only one problem. He's the wrong man.