The Prisoner of Vandam Street: A Novel

The Prisoner of Vandam Street: A Novel

Kinky Friedman

Language: English

Pages: 240

ISBN: 0743246020

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Alfred Hitchcock's classic film Rear Window gets an affectionate kick in the butt in this homage from master crime writer, philosopher, and equal-opportunity offender Kinky Friedman.

It's a case of malaria versus murder when private dick extraordinaire Kinky Friedman comes down with a tropical disease, in the jungle known as New York City, and is confined to his loft on Vandam Street in lower Manhattan, a prisoner in his own home with only his cat and black puppet head as company (neither of whom are great conversationalists).
With little to do but stare out the window in between bedridden bouts of fever and hallucinations, Kinky calls on assistance from the stalwart Village Irregulars, who proceed to dish out their own uniquely skewed brand of tea and sympathy, turning the loft into a virtual Mardi Gras of confusion and drunken debauchery.
Suffering almost as much from company overload as from his fever, Kinky welcomes a rare moment of calm as he finds himself once again alone in his loft. Resuming his position at the kitchen window, he spots a pretty young woman in an apartment across the street. What he hopes might be titillating turns terrifying, however, as a man joins the woman and proceeds to attack her. Sure that he's witnessed a crime, Kinky calls in the cops, but, upon investigating his claim, they can find neither a victim nor an apartment across the street. In addition, no one else saw or heard anything that would ndicate a crime had taken place. Was it foul play or merely a fevered dream?
Convinced that their friend is about to slip off into the land of eternal slumber, the Village Irregulars increase their vigilance and in the process raise the Kinkster's irritability level to an all-time high. Not to be deterred, however, Kinky sticks to his story and is rewarded when a few days later he sees the man in the apartment again, but this time with a gun.
Outrageous, audacious, and ingeniously crafted, The Prisoner of Vandam Street is vintage Kinky: irreverent, clever, and full of the hardened philosophy and mordant wit that has earned him a vast and devoted readership. But what more would you expect from the writer The New York Times has called "The world's funniest, bawdiest, and most politically incorrect country music singer turned mystery writer"?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

McGovern, he didn’t have a mean bone in his large body. No way would he have done anything so dastardly and devious as to land me in the horsepital. I told Mick Brennan as much. “You know, Mick,” I said, “now that I think about it, there’s no way McGovern would’ve ever slipped me a mickey.” “You’re right, mate. You want to know what I think?” “Do I have a choice? I’m here, trapped in this horsepital bed, freezing my ass off, drowning in sweat—” “We haven’t had a wet dream, have we?”

maybe you hadn’t. You weren’t sure. But you could hear the adults talking in the next room. And every word they spoke seemed to be so important, falling like a raindrop through the long dark night of childhood onto the window of your heart. “So how’d you get him into the soddin’ building, mate?” “I carried him,” said the confident voice with the warm, friendly Texas drawl. “I found him down the block lying in the gutter in the rain. I carried him back here and put him in bed. The best thing to

met Piers years ago with Kinky in L.A., I’m going to make him second in command.” “That’s a mistake,” said McGovern. “He’s blind as a kangaroo.” “He’s one of those anti-Aussie bigots,” said Piers. “He can’t hear a word that’s been said.” “What?” said McGovern. “What about tickets to the Grateful Dead?” “See what I mean?” said Piers. “He’s a true no-hoper.” “All right now,” said Kent. “Piers will be second in command and Kinky’s told me wonderful things about you other Village Irregulars.”

don’t agree with you about is the investigation.” “Sod the investigation,” said Brennan. “All my little helpers,” I said, again quoting my father. “I’m happy to help investigate, mate,” said Brennan. “I just don’t understand exactly what it is we’re tryin’ to investigate.” “I’m a licensed private investigator,” said Kent, only half-humorously. “Maybe I can help you.” “No one’s ever been able to help Brennan, mate,” said Piers. “Many men have died trying.” “And women,” put in Pete Myers.

answer a question truthfully without prompting like that. If you think you’re here to test me, then you can just hit the door. Go ahead. Walk out of here and turn your back on all this effort. It’s your life, young lady. People getting together and trying to help a total stranger in the middle of New York City may seem too weird to grasp. I understand that. It’s okay. Just leave.” Confined to my bed like a shut-in, I found myself inextricably caught up in this little drama, like an old-time

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