QUARRY’S BLOOD
By Max Allan Collins
Hard Case Crime
205 pgs
Max Allan Collins has been writing stories about his Vietnam veteran
hitman since 1976. It was obvious from the start that the author and his
creation were the same age making it easy enough for him to place the stories
in time. Collins did a few Quarry books and then walked away from them. When
Hard Case Crime came along, publisher Charles Ardai, a fan of the character,
urged Collins to bring Quarry back.” Collins, obviously older, as was his hero,
realized he had a golden opportunity to write a finale.
What his crystal ball couldn’t predict was how successful
“The Last Quarry” would become among his ever growing audience. And there was
Ardai wanting more. Collins pulled a very neat hat-trick and went backwards
with “The First Quarry.” Which of course meant dusting off his own memories of
those long ago times and their social environs. All of which he did making it
seem effortless.
Having thus given us the alpha and omega, it seemed we
mystery/crime fans had seen the last of Quarry. Again we’ve been proven wrong
in this new “Quarry’s Blood.” It’s pretty much a gripping fast paced epilogue
and so much fun. We catch up with an aging Quarry, almost about to reach
seventy and widowed for the second time. He’s content with living a quiet, if
lonely life, until a very savvy female writer named Susan shows up on his
doorstep. As it turns out she’s the author of a bestselling true crime novel
that was clearly inspired by Quarry’s lethal career and she’s convinced he is
the real hitman she researched in her book.
Unnerved by all this, he maintains his false innocence and
sends her packing. The following day, while taking a pre-dawn swim at a nearby
indoor pool, he’s nearly killed by two professional assassins. No way is it a
coincendence and Quarry finds himself once again being pulled into his old
world of hunter/prey, kill or be killed. But what’s the connection to Susan?
And who, after so many long years, wants him dead and why?
This is one of the best Quarry books ever. Maybe we think that because we’re seventy-five, a Vietnam veteran and often times think about all our brothers who never made it home to their families and loved ones. Who never got to drink another cold beer or read a damn good book like this one. Thanks, Max, for all of them.
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