Cinnamon Skin: A Travis McGee Novel
John D. MacDonald
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
From a beloved master of crime fiction, Cinnamon Skin is one of many classic novels featuring Travis McGee, the hard-boiled detective who lives on a houseboat.
In the Florida Keys, a houseboat explodes in a giant white flash, instantly killing the honeymooners onboard. Travis McGee’s best friend, Meyer, loses not only his home and every single thing in it but his last living relative. Now he wants answers. And he and McGee plan to get them—or die trying.
“To diggers a thousand years from now, the works of John D. MacDonald would be a treasure on the order of the tomb of Tutankhamen.”—Kurt Vonnegut
If Travis McGee hadn’t arranged a lecture tour for his friend, Meyer would be dead. As it was, Meyer lent the John Maynard Keynes to his just-married niece, Norma, and her husband, Evan, hoping to give them the perfect honeymoon. Instead: tragedy. When a group of Colombian terrorists take responsibility for the brutal act, Meyer and McGee travel to Mexico to seek justice. Or payback.
Once south of the border, Meyer and McGee discover many things: Evan’s seedy past, a beautiful local named Barbara, a lethal drug cartel, and, perhaps, even Meyer’s long lost courage. But does Meyer, always content in McGee’s shadow, have what it takes to avenge the killing of the person he loved most?
Features a new Introduction by Lee Child
Meyer set his coffee aside and stared at the man. “Drug traffic!” he said incredulously. “Drug traffic! My niece was a respected geologist who worked for—” “Don’t get agitated. She checked out clean as a whistle. We are wondering about her husband”—he turned a page in his notebook and read off the names—“Evan Lawrence, and the boat captain, Dennis Hackney Jenkins, a.k.a. Hacksaw Jenkins.” “Not likely in either case,” I said. “Evan Lawrence came over here with his wife from Houston because she
out into the little garden. Finally he came over and sat near me. “Once Windham arranged for me to stay here, he asked me to go through all the papers and documents I could find to see if I could learn anything about Evan Lawrence. The only traces of him were some old clothes, a pair of work shoes, and some love letters from Norma to him.” “With addresses?” “Without envelopes. From the contents I think they were sent back here from some field trips she went on. All the rest of her papers were
matter what I thought of it, it was the right decision for Anne Renzetti. Then came the hard part. I had suffered loss. I had been rejected. I was the lover cast out. I was alone. And when I tried to plumb the depths of my grief and my loss, I came finally upon a small ugly morsel way down in the bottom of my soul. It was a little round object, like a head with a grinning face. It said ugly things to me. It kept telling me I was relieved. I strained for the crocodile tears, but the little face
of value which could not be recovered in any normal manner, and I usually kept half the value. She said that in one sense the files had no value, but in another sense, if the misuse of them destroyed her in Fort Lauderdale professionally, they were very valuable. So we agreed that I would bill her according to the difficulty I encountered. She was about my age, maybe two years younger. She was a big Norse-looking woman, fair and well scrubbed, with a trick of establishing very direct eye
“Sort of about eight. Morning on Sunday is my best office time. Catch up on stuff. Who was that who answered yesterday when I phoned?” “Kind of a Maya princess type.” “A what?” “A nice person. Barbara is a nice person. She’s up here from Mexico on sort of a vacation. I keep talking her into making it a little bit longer.” “I’m glad you have a nice new friend, Travis.” “I’m glad you’re glad. Next weekend we are having the great Meyer chili festival. On an empty sandspit way down Biscayne