It had had time to neither swell nor bleed. There was a raw spot behind the girl’s left ear. Her head was on the hardwood floor in the space between the carpet and the fireplace, Her face, whiter than the areas kept from the sun by her bikini, eyes staring, looked as if she were about to complain of some minor discomfort, such as, “Move your arm, wil] you?” or “Your watchband is scratching me.” Naked, her breasts and hips full, her stomach lean, she lay on her back between the coffee table and the divan. “There’s a murdered girl in my living room.”

“Sergeant, this is Mister Fletcher, 152 Beacon Street, apartment 6B.” The painting over the desk was a Ford Madox Brown-a country couple wrapped against the wind. On the little desk was a black telephone. There were two red leather wing chairs in the room, a small divan, and a coffee table. The movie adaptation releases this week, so it’s been on my mind.įletch snapped on the light and looked into the den.Įxcept for the long windows and the area over the desk, the walls were lined with books. This is one of my all-time favorite openings (and boy howdy, I had a hard time deciding when to stop). Sometimes the characters will hook the reader, sometimes the premise, sometimes it’s just knowing the author-but nothing beats a great opening for getting a reader to commit. Head & Shoulders used to tell us that, “You never get a second chance to make a first impression.” That’s true for wearing dark shirts, and it’s especially true for books.

Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller.

Fletch books order