Publisher's Synopsis
It happened in Hotel Duarte, a bullet length from the Great White Way, where life begins at eight-forty-and often ends by midnight with a couple of murders. For instance, the murder of a dumb welterweight who took his dive-and got paid off in lead. He was the brother of Johnny Killain's gal, and that was pure bad luck for the fight mob-because Killain went in swinging with no referee to call him off.
