The Pursuit: A Fox and O'Hare Novel by Janet Evanovich & Lee Goldberg

Author:Janet Evanovich & Lee Goldberg [Evanovich, Janet & Goldberg, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Romance, Adult, Suspense, Humour, Thriller
ISBN: 9780553392777
Amazon: B017G7IVSW
Goodreads: 27405337
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2016-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chez Schwartz Charcuterie Hebraique de Montreal opened in 1928 on boulevard Saint-Laurent. It was in an area smack between Montreal’s English-speaking population to the west, the French-speaking to the east, and the immigrant, ethnic mix that populated the strip in between. While that area transformed over time from an ethnic ghetto into the hip, artsy heart of the city, Schwartz’s remained essentially unchanged and became famous for its “smoked meat,” a fatter, spicier, Canadian version of pastrami. There was always a line out the door for a seat at one of Schwartz’s communal tables because only sixty customers at a time could fit inside. Even so, Huck Moseby had a table completely to himself to enjoy his “extra fat” smoked meat sandwich, French fries, and Cott Black Cherry soda.

It wasn’t because he was wealthy, powerful, or someone so outwardly repulsive or frightening that others steered clear of him. Huck was an average-looking forty-four-year-old man, slightly pudgy and perhaps a little too pale, wearing a ragged Musée de Florentiny T-shirt with a faded picture of Rembrandt’s Old Man Eating Bread by Candlelight on the back. So he fit right in. The place was full of hipsters in fashionably vintage clothes and stylishly torn jeans.

After twelve years employed as a sewer engineer for Hydro-Québec, Huck had acquired a faint, but persistent, l’air du poop that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he showered nor how many gallons of Old Spice that he put on. It was also why he hadn’t been laid in six years, except for a merciful prostitute who’d had a raging head cold.

It was a sad, pitiful situation that would have destroyed the self-respect of most men. But Huck Moseby wasn’t most men. He took strength from the secret knowledge that he was a criminal genius. A few years ago, he’d committed the biggest robbery in Canadian history, tunneling into the Musée de Florentiny from the sewer to steal their entire collection of masterworks. Problem was there were two other robbers, a man and woman in ski masks, who coincidentally were already in the museum stealing the Rembrandts. The couple wouldn’t let him have a Rembrandt or anything else, sending him back into his hole at gunpoint with only a Musée de Florentiny T-shirt to show for his brilliance and months of toil. The other thieves got the paintings, the glory, and even the credit for tunneling in, though he had no idea how they’d actually entered the museum. The paintings were recovered, but the two thieves were never caught.

It was because of that life-defining event that he wore the T-shirt almost constantly and wouldn’t buy a new one even though they were still sold, in a variety of sizes and colors, at the Musée de Florentiny gift shop. The T-shirt was his armor against the indignities he had to endure each day.

He was taking a bite out of his thick sandwich when an attractive couple in their thirties sat down across from him at the table. He

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