The homeless of Montreal are dying at the hand of 'Allan', a serial killer set on ridding the city of street people... As the killer taunts the police about the increasing body count, Captain Dave McCall calls on the services Jonathan Addley and Chris Barry, both operatives with the government's clandestine Discreet Activities team. All while fighting the city's proposed by-law banning the homeless from downtown parks, philanthropist and activist, William Enright, joins the law-enforcement crusade to capture the assassin - but will the combined efforts of the law and old money be sufficient to stop The Homeless Killer?
Genre: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / General10K copies sold
Best Amazon Overall Ranking: #1100
Best Amazon Vigilante Justice Ranking: #1
87 ratings with a 4.3/5 average
Arnie finished tying the last rope, giving it a good tug to make sure the knot was nice and tight. Satisfied, he backed away a few steps to admire his handiwork, a toothless grin spreading across his dirty, wrinkled mug.
“Hehehee!” he giggled to himself with delight. “Home sweet home, and ya know what they say about real estate: location, location, location.”
Arnie’s new abode was in fact a tent/shanty built with a variety of cardboard boxes, bits of lumber he’d gathered here and there, an old 6 x 6 tarp he’d lucked upon and, of course, yards of string and rope to hold everything together while trees served as the foundation. The inside of his new residence was furnished with an old gym mat, an older sleeping bag, two plastic milk crates (one served for storage, the other as a stool) and a small rusted and rickety folding table. Added to this was his prized kitchenware; a battered sterno camping burner, an old cast iron pan, a plastic bowl, a coffee mug (sans handle) and a full set of cutlery for one (which he had boldly snatched from a terrace table at a restaurant on St-Denis Street).
As far as location went, Arnie had indeed landed on some prime real estate. He had built his home for the summer on the east side of Mount-Royal on a small flat section of the incline overlooking the Royal Victoria Hospital’s rear parking lot. Surrounded by dense trees and bushes, his new home was sheltered from view and hikers rarely ventured through the woods, remaining rather on the Olmstead or Le Serpentin paths. He was, however, a mere fifteen minute walk from downtown Montreal where he went on his scavenging and panhandling treks seven days a week. Being homeless was a full-time job.
“Ain’t no cops gonna be bustin my butt this summer, no siree!” the fifty-six year old vagrant stated proudly as he settled down on his milk crate to take a mid-afternoon break.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Federica Pagnani
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Flávia Mendes
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Talía García
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