Click here to buy this book! Kindle Edition Amazon Lulu The Disappearance of Robin Murat www.carsonrenomysteryseries.com Category:  Mystery/Suspense Publisher: cr Press ISBN-10:  0359967914 Type: Fiction Pages: 218 Copyright: November 1, 2019 ISBN-13: 9780359967919 Price: $2.99 (eBook) The 19th book in the Carson Reno Mystery Series All Carson Reno books are standalone novels. It is not necessary to read them in any order. Carson has been hired to locate a client’s missing brother, and it quickly gets complicated. Somehow the missing brother is linked to a gangster who has stolen thousands from the mafia, but that link isn’t clear. Carson’s search doesn’t turn up the brother, but it does turn up a body – the body of a gangster who was on a mission of murder. It seems that the Memphis Mafia and the Memphis Police are also searching for his client’s brother. Finding him first becomes a real priority. The pursuit takes him to New Orleans, where a whole new mystery unfolds, which puts Carson in some very serious danger. Then, if possible, things get worse. More bodies appear while the Mafia chases their money, and it seems people are not who they claim to be. This old fashion crime story takes Carson Reno and his crew on a complicated adventure, where it seems the solution may be worse than the problem. Join our Cast of Characters and come along to help Carson find the clues, search for the truth and try to solve the Disappearance of Robin Murat         Excerpt I knew the pounding in my head was because of a large knot behind my left ear – a knot left by something very hard and someone very angry. Aching arms were caused by my hands being uncomfortably tied behind my back, and probably to the chair I was sitting in. But, what I couldn’t understand was why my feet were so cold. Reluctant to open my eyes, I just listened for a moment and tried to collect my thoughts. Before someone had rudely turned out my lights, I was standing in Jake Furman’s small kitchen making myself a whiskey and Coke while staring at a wrinkled note I found in his trashcan. It read: Dock 14, Midnight Wednesday. Looking for Furman had consumed most of three days, and I figured he owed me at least one drink – considering all the trouble he’d put me through. Jake Furman, aka Nimmo, aka Orley, aka Spike, aka French, aka Sandman had enough names to start his own phonebook, and tracking him down had not been easy. Wednesday was two days from now, and I was pondering checking out Dock 14 when everything faded to black. Now I wasn’t in Jake Furman’s kitchen anymore – I was somewhere else. I could feel a slight movement underneath where I was sitting and hear water splashing, so I suspected I must be on a boat of some sort – one moving slowly and quietly. There was also the dry, putrid smell of swamp water – the odor that comes from water that has been standing too long without getting refreshed. Or it could come from the creatures that like to hide beneath its crusty surface. Either way it was easy to recognize. It was night, or at least I thought it was night. It had been night when I was standing in Furman’s kitchen; but I had no idea how long I’d been swimming in this pool of darkness before coming to my senses. I could also feel a cool breeze blowing against my cheeks – one frequently associated with a warm summer nighttime in the South. However, it was not cool enough to make my feet cold – there had to be another reason for that. With my eyes still closed I tried to focus on sounds and surroundings – trying to get a better idea of my problems before completing my return to reality. The sound of splashing water, the cool breeze, the putrid smell of water and movement meant that I was probably on a boat - and it was probably traveling somewhere through giant cypress trees in one of the many swamps south of New Orleans. It also meant that I was being taken somewhere I probably didn’t want to go. But there were other things, other sounds – sounds not so friendly. Somewhere to my right I could hear the muffled noises of a man whimpering and crying; his words falling on top of each other, running together and making no sense. To my left I could hear two men speaking softly in Spanish, occasionally laughing out at some unknown humor. My Spanish was limited, so not all their words were understandable; but the ones I did recognize were frightening. Those words told me that I would need to open my eyes before this situation got out of hand. Slowly opening my left eye, then my right, allowing a moment for them to adjust to the shadowy light – what I saw made me want to close them again. As suspected I was sitting in a chair, and that chair was in the front of a small boat. A dim glow was coming from a swinging lantern tied to the stern, but providing enough illumination for me to see my surroundings. Underneath the lantern sat a little man wearing a straw hat and using a small paddle to shuffle the boat through the dark water. The two men to my left were sitting on the boat’s gunnel, laughing and joking with each other while sharing a marijuana cigarette – their dark hair an odd contrast to the light colored clothing they were wearing. Both were also holding .45 caliber automatic pistols and waving them in the air as they passed the cigarette back and forth. The crying man to my right was sitting in a chair, like me, with his hands tied behind his back. He also had very dark hair and was dressed in light colored clothing – just like the two men with the guns and marijuana cigarette. But unlike those men, his feet were resting in a small white plastic bucket – an odd way to be sitting in a boat, I thought. Then I remembered my feet, my very cold feet. Looking down I shuttered. My feet were cold because they were also resting in a small white plastic bucket, and the chill was from the cold concrete poured around my feet - concrete that was beginning to harden. “Shit,” I mumbled to myself. “Ah,” One of the men turned to look at me. “El gringo es ahora despierto." “Yes,” the other man answered in English. “Now they will both be awake when they go swimming,” “Pero de éste hormigón no es difícil,” the first man said, looking down at my feet. “I know, but it will soon harden and we are in no hurry,” the other answered in English before pointing at the crying man. “We’ll send this one swimming now. His is hard enough and I’m tired of listening to him cry.” In one swift motion they picked the other man up and threw him over the side of the boat – chair and all. I only heard him scream a brief “Ahhhhh” before his body slid beneath the dark water. The two men looked at each other and laughed before turning to me. “Pronto será turno del otro gringo,” one said in Spanish, while showing me an evil grin. “Yes Mr. Reno, soon it will be your turn,” the other man added. “Shit,” I mumbled again – only louder this time.

Darnell's Stories are never disappointing
nother great Carson Reno story, and Darnell delivers it so well. With all the books in this series I have read, I think each new one Darnell releases gets better. This reader loves the character of Reno, and the interesting cases that Darnell puts in front of him. Filled with action, mystery and a grand investigation by Reno, and his cohorts. I loved this story, and it definitely kept me on the edge of my seat. Cops and mobsters are just the beginning, and filled with twists and unpredictability, this is a magnificent story. It's more than just a story or page-tuner, it's a heart-pounder as well. I look forward to reading more by this author, in this series or anything he wants to release. This book is a definite recommendation by Amy's Bookshelf Reviews.

Old Time Crime Novel
William S.
5.0 out of 5 stars Old-time crime novel set in the 60's
Reviewed in the United States on February 19, 2020
Format: Kindle Edition
This reads like an old-time detective novel. You'll run through memories of Mickey Spillane and conjure up words like Dick, and Gumshoe. In the beginning there are a limited number of characters drafted, which is good for a novel genre that can be labeled as complicated. The writer paints these characters well, each time, and the reader carries their visual throughout the book as they meet others and carry on the task of solving the mystery. You might find a few typo's but not many, like kindle location 588, where there is a phone 'handing' on the wall. But the reader should overlook this as the story line is good, engaging and linear. It doesn't fall apart, or branch out in several directions. It's easy to tell the writer has written many manuscripts and is very experienced. The story opens with a murder scene on a boat in a swamp, hooking the reader. Two thirds of the way through, the writer returns to that scene to reveal what happens, and how it fits in with the ending. Well done, Gerald Darnell!
--This text refers to the paperback edition.

Another engrossing Carson Reno Investigation
Eva Pasco
5.0 out of 5 stars Another Engrossing Carson Reno Investigation
Reviewed in the United States on January 1, 2020
Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase
A fan of Darnell's hard-boiled mysteries/ detective stories, I gladly checked in at the Peabody, the location of Carson Reno's "Drake Detective Agency". I reacquainted myself with the sleuth's cohorts:Joe Richardson, Lydia Longstreet, Detective Gamble, Jack Logan, and his flustered secretary, Marcie. There's never a shortage of Jack and Coke, or any other drinks for that matter--be they sipped or slurped at the Down Under Bar or Starlight Lounge.

In addition to the authentic places frequented in Memphis, Tennessee, the author does justice to the Sixties time period.

In true Darnell form, there is a diverse cast of characters from all walks of life, who invariably complicate matters for Reno. Also in rare form--the author's signature dialogue--repartee, acerbic wit, and clever comebacks. In 'The Disappearance of Robin Murat,' for my money, the one-legged parrot at Angel's Bar delivers the best lines!

I found this case a most engrossing, page-turner in my eagerness to discover the connection, if any, between Robin Murat and Jake Furman.