Table Of ContentTable of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Praise for Ed McBain & the 87th Precinct
“Raw and realistic…The bad guys are very bad, and the good guys are better.”
—Detroit Free Press
“Ed McBain’s 87th Precinct series…simply the best police procedurals being
written in the United States.”
—Washington Post
“The best crime writer in the business.”
—Houston Post
“Ed McBain is a national treasure.”
—Mystery News
“It’s hard to think of anyone better at what he does. In fact, it’s impossible.”
—Robert B. Parker
“I never read Ed McBain without the awful thought that I still have a lot to learn.
And when you think you’re catching up, he gets better.”
—Tony Hillerman
“McBain is the unquestioned king…light years ahead of anyone else in the
field.”
—San Diego Union-Tribune “McBain tells great stories.”
—Elmore Leonard
“Pure prose poetry…It is such writers as McBain who bring the great American
urban mythology to life.”
—The London Times
“The McBain stamp: sharp dialogue and crisp plotting.”
—Miami Herald
“You’ll be engrossed by McBain’s fast, lean prose.”
—Chicago Tribune
“McBain redefines the American police novel…he can stop you dead in your
tracks with a line of dialogue.”
tracks with a line of dialogue.”
—Cleveland Plain Dealer “The wit, the pacing, his relish for the drama of
human diversity [are] what you remember about McBain novels.”
—Philadelphia Inquirer “McBain is a top pro, at the top of his game.”
—Los Angeles Daily News
SO LONG AS YOU BOTH SHALL LIVE
AN 87TH PRECINCT NOVEL
Ed McBain
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to
real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 1976 Ed McBain
Republished in 2011
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer
P.O. Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN: 978-1-61218-182-0
This is for Jack Scovil
The city in these pages is imaginary.
The people, the places are all fictitious.
Only the police routine is based on established
investigatory technique.
The photographer’s name was Alexander Pike, and he was doing the job free of
charge because Augusta Blair was a good friend of his and this was Augusta’s
wedding day. It was also Bart Kling’s wedding day, but Pike hadn’t met Kling
until 4:00 this afternoon, shortly before the ceremony—and whereas he naturally
wished the groom all sorts of happiness, any real feelings of affection were
reserved for Augusta.
Pike had never seen so many cops in his life.
The groom was a cop, of course, a tall blond fellow who seemed a bit
bewildered by everything that was going on. This explained why there were so
many cops of different stripes and persuasions at the ceremony and now at the
reception. All of them were in plainclothes, but Pike would have known what
they were even if they’d all come to the wedding naked; he had once done a
photographic documentary on law enforcement, and had got to know policemen
very well indeed. Actually he liked cops, even if at 4:00 this afternoon one of
them had married Augusta Blair, whom Pike had loved with undiminished
passion for three and a half years now.
He had met Augusta shortly after she’d come to this city from Seattle,
Washington. He’d been at a cocktail party in the Quarter, when suddenly the
front door opened, and all conversation stopped. The girl standing in the
doorway was tall and slender, with auburn hair that fell loosely to her shoulders.
She had high cheekbones, and eyes so intensely green they seemed fierce. Her
nose tilted gently away from her mouth, lifting the upper lip slightly, so that her
even white teeth were partially exposed. She had good breasts, and long legs,
and hips perhaps too wide for fashion modeling, and she moved directly and
with swift smiling grace toward a knot of people she recognized. Pike followed
her across the room, introduced himself to her, and then took her over to meet
Art Cutler, who ran a modeling agency with his wife Leslie. That had been the
start of Augusta’s career, and also the start of their long friendship.
Pike was now sixty-four years old, happily married and the father of three
sons, so presumably his love for Augusta was strictly paternal. And yet, at 4:00
this afternoon he had felt a faint twinge of jealousy when the minister asked,
