Coorparoo Blues and the Irish Fandango

by G. S. Manson

Overview

Brisbane, 1943. A provincial Australian city has turned almost overnight into the main Allied staging post for the war in the Pacific. The social, sexual, and racial tensions stirred up by the arrival of tens of thousands of US troops provoke all kinds of mayhem, and Brisbane’s once quiet streets are suddenly looking pretty mean. Enter P.I. Jack Munro, a World War I veteran and ex-cop with a nose for trouble and a stubborn dedication to exposing the truth, however inconvenient it might be for those in charge. He’s not always an especially good man, but he’s the one you want on your side when things look bad. When Jack's hired by a knockout blonde to find her no-good missing husband, he turns over a few rocks he isn't supposed to, and the questions start to pile up, along with the bodies. Not inclined to take no for an answer, he forges on through the dockside bars, black-market warehouses, and segregated brothels of his roiling city, uncovering more than a few surprises in this murky tale based on actual events in a little-known corner of the WW2 theatre.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781891241895
Publisher:	Verse Chorus Press
Publication date:	06/12/2012
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	224
File size:	715 KB

About the Author

G.S. Manson, former meatpacker, barman, rock journalist, demolition man, porno salesman, roller-disco mechanic, and debt collector, now divides his time between laying down hypnotic funk grooves as half of indigenous trance band GURIGURU and trying to run an organic pecan farm. He also has no trouble walking the mean streets of his own mind as a crime writer with a uniquely Australian voice.

Read an Excerpt

“On time to the minute, Mr Munro. I like that in a man.”
This one knew what she was worth. She sat perched in the chair like a Myer’s model.
“Call me Jack.”
“Very well, Jack. I want you to find my husband.”
“You’re not wearing a ring.”
“Very observant. We are separated.”
“Don’t wanna cruel the pitch, eh?”
“That was crude and uncalled for. I expected better from you.”
“Did you? How come?”
“I’ve been told that you are a discreet and effective operator, Mr Munro, if a bit rough around the edges and rather too eager for a quid. So I’ll overlook your rather base view of my circumstances. Now, will you find my husband for me or not?”
He sat back, impressed.
“The umpire would call that a six, lady.”
“And I can keep batting all afternoon if I need to,” she shot back.
She was as cool as a gunbarrel, and just as dangerous.
“Who’d he run off with then?”
“I imagine that your clientele are usually concerned with matters below the belt, but this is a simple missing persons case.”
The word simple rang alarm bells. It usually meant the opposite.
“The police?”
A bead of sweat appeared on her forehead, and he knew there was more to this than met his bloodshot eye this steamy afternoon. He turned on the desk fan and angled it toward her.
“I see.”
“Do you, Mr Munro?”
“I see someone who needs to give me some more details before I get involved.”
“Ah, I’m afraid not. You must accept the case before I tell you any more.”
That was like a red rag.
“Okay, I’m in,” he said, trying not to stare at her cleavage as it started to gleam in the humid confines of the office.
“Excellent. Here is a photo of my husband. His name is Reginald Flowers. He came up here from Melbourne to meet with some associates two weeks ago, and I haven’t heard a thing since.”
The photo was a studio job, not a happy snap, and the subject was definitely some sort of spiv, Ronald Colman mo and all.
“What’s his line of business?”
“Import and export.”
“And who was he meeting?”
“Some American gentlemen.”
Dust motes curled lazily in the fan’s wake.
“They wouldn’t be military gentlemen, would they, by any chance? Acting in, let’s say, an unofficial capacity?”
“I’m sure I couldn’t say. Perhaps.”
The word was loaded with more than it could carry. She brushed back her hair and looked right into his eyes.
“Anyway, that’s for you to find out, isn’t it?”

Editorial Reviews

Hard-boiled fans will welcome Australian author Manson’s two novellas introducing hard-drinking, hard-loving PI Jack Munro, who has a penchant for championing the underdog on the mean streets of WWII-era Brisbane. In the first, rich and sexy Julia Flowers hires Jack to find her missing husband. Jack gets on a trail that will involve an AWOL U.S. seaman, the murder of two black American soldiers, and a complicated black market scam. Along the way, he discovers a new kind of music—the blues. In his second case, local Communists hire Jack to look into the supposed suicide of one of their own, an investigation that touches on Spanish Civil War atrocities, a priest fond of young boys, and IRA partisans. Munro takes beatings and dishes them out with abandon. A brief glossary helps with the Aussie slang. (June)

Publishers Weekly

"Gritty fun . . . great historical detail of wartime Australia mixed with sex and violence . . . keep[s] the pages turning."—The Courier-Mail (Brisbane)

"Hard-boiled fans will welcome Australian author Manson’s two novellas introducing hard-drinking, hard-loving PI Jack Munro, who has a penchant for championing the underdog on the mean streets of WWII-era Brisbane."—Publishers Weekly

From the Publisher