Rumpelstiltskin

Ah yes, Rumpelstiltskin — because when Ed McBain borrows a fairy tale title, you can be fairly certain nobody is about to spin straw into gold without someone else ending up very dead.

This is the 87th Precinct at work again, that gloriously unglamorous patch of urban reality where crime is less enchanted forest and more fluorescent-lit paperwork with occasional bursts of violence. McBain takes the bones of a familiar name—whispers, bargains, something owed—and drags it firmly into the modern city, where promises still carry a price and names still matter, just not in the way the Brothers Grimm intended.

Expect a cast of detectives who are tired, competent, and quietly relentless. Expect suspects who lie badly, victims who deserved better, and a plot that unfolds with the steady, procedural rhythm McBain made his own. There’s no fairy godmother here, no magical intervention—just legwork, instinct, and the creeping sense that the truth is always slightly uglier than anyone wants it to be.

This Book Club Associates edition from 1981 is in Good condition, as sold by Crappy Old Books. A solid, readable copy that has clearly done its time, much like the precinct itself—dependable, a bit worn, and still very much on the case.

A fairy tale for grown-ups, in other words: no magic, no mercy, and absolutely no happy endings guaranteed.

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