cover art by Stanley Borack
About a guy named Brad Dolan, whose scars run deep. He thought he’d worn out his conscience as Guadalcanal, Bastogne, the Inchon Reservoir — and in a New York apartment, where a restless model forgot she was his wife. Now he’s drifting deep in back-country Florida, the part you never see on the travel posters. Down here everything belongs to a man named Ringo — the jukes, the sheriff, the hustlers. Now Ringo wants to own Dolan
Dolan comes high.
better image than previously posted
SMB Noir 