Drop Dead Punk

by Rich Zahradnik Narrated by Donald Corren

Overview

Coleridge Taylor is searching for his next scoop on the police beat. The Messenger-Telegram reporter has a lot to choose from on the crime-ridden streets of New York City in 1975. One story outside his beat is grabbing all the front page glory: New York teeters on the brink of bankruptcy, and President Ford just told the city, as the Daily News so aptly puts it, “drop dead.”

Taylor's situation is nearly as desperate. His home is a borrowed dry-docked houseboat, his newspaper may also be on the way out, and his drunk father keeps getting arrested. A source sends Taylor down to Alphabet City, where he finds two dead bodies: a punk named Johnny Mort and a cop named Robert Dodd. Each looks too messed up to have killed the other, so Taylor starts asking around. The punk was a good kid, the peace-loving guardian angel of the neighborhood's stray dogs. What led him to mug a woman at gunpoint? And why is officer Samantha Callahan being accused of leaving her partner to die, even though she insists the police radio misled her?

It's hard enough being a female in the NYPD only five years after women were assigned to patrol, and now the department wants to throw her to the wolves. That's not going to happen-not if Taylor can help it. As he falls for Samantha-a beautiful, dedicated second-generation cop-he realizes he's too close to his story. Officer Callahan is a target, and Taylor is standing between her and some mighty big guns.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

06/22/2015
The New York City financial crisis of 1975 provides the dramatic backdrop for Zahradnik’s frenetic sequel to 2014’s Last Words. When police officer Robert Dodd starts to chase a mugger in Greenwich Village, Dodd’s partner, Samantha Callahan, is unable to keep up. By the time Callahan catches up, Dodd and the mugger, who turns out to be punk rocker Johnny Mort, are both lying dead in the street after an apparent exchange of gunfire. Coleridge Taylor, an investigative reporter for the New York Messenger-Telegram, begins probing the oddities of the crime. When the newspaper folds and leaves Taylor without a job, he stays on the case. As he learns more about Mort, Dodd, and Callahan, he becomes convinced the shooting was a setup, but it’s unclear who may have been the target. Taylor, who lives for the big story, makes an appealingly single-minded hero. Agent: Dawn Dowdle, Blue Ridge Literary Agency. (Aug.)

From the Publisher

4 Stars: "Drop Dead Punk provides hours of engrossing entertainment. The protagonist's choices, both good and bad, illustrate the depth and complexity of this utterly relatable character. As the action develops and intensifies, the pace moves from moderate to fast. The 1970s New York City backdrop seems well researched. Book two of the Coleridge Taylor series is a thoroughly satisfying read that will keep readers guessing until the end."
--RT Reviews (October 2015)

Product Details

BN ID:	2940169693553
Publisher:	Blackstone Audio, Inc.
Publication date:	11/15/2016
Series:	Coleridge Taylor Series , #2
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

A tall, wiry guy with medium-length brown and gray hair sauntered over from his place at the other end of the bar. The guy might be plainclothes, but didn't have to be. Some patrol cops looked pretty shaggy now. Gone were the days of neat and tidy. The man turned one of the chairs around and straddled it. "What's up, Callahan?"

"Oh you know, the usual, Schmidt. Drinking to a fallen comrade. With no one else. Will you join me?"

"You already seem to have company." Schmidt continued to stare with hungry gray eyes at Samantha. "We need to keep things in the family. Who's your friend?"

As if on cue, the conversation in the bar slowly died to almost nothing. The off-duty men in Little Cindy's watched Samantha's table. Sinatra continued singing "Summer Wind."

"He's not a friend. He's a newspaper reporter."

Samantha's eyes took on a dangerous glint that made Taylor want to be a lot more sober. He didn't know enough yet to read what was going on.

"We're worried about you. Things I'm hearing about what happened with Dodd--those things are a serious concern. Now this. Airing your dirty laundry with a fucking reporter."

"Our dirty laundry."

Need to cool this down.

Taylor lifted the bottle of beer. "Just having a drink with Samantha here. That's it. I know a lot of people on the force. Check me out."

"I don't give a shit who you know. I don't know you. Nobody on this patch knows you. Nobody on this patch talks to any reporters."

Taylor watched his hopes for the night go out the window. He'd needed to learn as much as he could from Samantha, even if he had to wait until later to get it all on the record. Tonight was supposed to be about figuring out what direction to go with the story. Have drinks with a source and get a handle on where to go next. That was how reporting worked. 'Course it didn't usually involve multiple shots of whiskey. Or violence. How was he going to learn anything more? He needed a plan B.

"The only story I'm interested in is Officer Dodd. He's a hero and I want to write a profile of a hero. Give me something for that."

"Bullshit. We're not heroes in your paper. Not any paper. You're here looking for dirt. You're going to leave here bloody."

"Stop being such asshole." Samantha stood, sliding her chair back with her calves. The wiry cords on Schmidt's arms tightened. She went to the bar and brought back another round of shots and set all three down.

"I'm not drinking with the bitch who got Dodd killed."

"I didn't get him killed. But something's going on. Any idea what?"

"Be careful, little girlie. Dodd's gone and he's about the only one round here who tolerated a meter maid."

There would be no toast. Samantha's whiskey went right in Schmidt's face.

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