Good Girl, Bad Girl (Alex Novalis Series)
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In May of 1968, New York City is broke and on the skids, and private eye Alex Novalis is hard up for gigs. So when he's offered a case from wealthy construction mogul Gabriel Kravitz, he can't refuse. Kravitz's eighteen-year-old daughter Lydia has gone missing. Though she's presumed to be with Jerry Pedrosian, the radical middle-aged artist and known womanizer she'd been sleeping with, there are few clues. Information is hard to come by; everyone seems to be hiding something. And then there's Andrea Marshall, Lydia's miniskirted and vinyl-booted best friend, who Novalis is deeply distrustful of and unfortunately attracted to. But as Novalis traverses the city, tracking Lydia from scummy artists' lofts in pre-gentrified SoHo to luxury penthouses overlooking Central Park, he'll face threats deadlier than any he signed on for. Smart and sophisticated, Good Girl, Bad Girl provides a rare, fascinating snapshot of late 1960s New York City, a glimpse into the forbidden sex, politics, art, drugs, and counterculture violence that ran rampant in its once gloriously gritty streets.
thought I was in love. “Don’t forget,” she said. “A full-body rub any time you feel you need it. The first one’s on me.” She left, and I was still waiting impatiently for Shirley Baldridge to call when the door opened and in walked Detective Campbell. “Just a follow-up to our little conversation yesterday,” he said, “the one about the report of a man with a gun.” “I guess you’re a connoisseur of wild-goose chases,” I suggested. “I just like to tie up loose ends for my own satisfaction,” said
smiled and said she was hungry, so we looked at the room service menu and ordered a couple of sandwiches and some beer. While we were waiting, I told her what had happened since I had left her in the coffee shop. There didn’t seem to be any sense in hiding it from her, whichever side she was on. She liked the part about me ambushing the hippie. “You actually mugged the guy? You kneed him in the balls and you mugged him?” She was impressed. “You are useful to have around,” she said. I showed
to me—semtex, cyclonite. Seems kind of scientific.” I made notes and thanked her. She returned to her novel. The title was The Lady and the Scoundrel. The author was Alyson Marshall. From the street, I called Janice to ask her to feed Samba. She wasn’t happy about that. I told her I’d take her to see Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. As I left the booth, I saw someone staring at me. Another skinny kid with long hair. He wasn’t even pretending to be invisible. That pissed me off. I walked over to
and said that he’d tried to assault her. One of the hardhats waved to a police car that was coming crosstown, and the guy hightailed out of here in his vehicle. The first cop car took off after him, then another one came and the cops in that one spoke to the girl and took her away. She didn’t want to go, but they were pretty insistent.” Out on the street, Lydia was both relieved and angry. “She’s finally getting some street smarts,” she said. “Okay, Mr. Detective, where would the cops take
wasn’t, she put her arms around my waist, rested her face against my shoulder and shed tears on my lapel. “We’ve got to do some serious talking,” I told her. We went to a Korean grocery that had a couple of tables in the back. Andrea ate a Hershey bar and drank a Tab. I smoked another cigarette. I took out the snapshot Lydia had given me and showed it to her. “You know where I got this from?” I said. Her face lit up. “Is she okay?” “Physically, she’s fine—but she’s in a lot of trouble, from