Muscle by Alan Trotter


Alan Trotter

A crime noir novel but not as you know it. Probably. Meet Box, big, strong and silent. Descend with him and his nameless partner into a dark world of mysterious violence, seemingly abstract scenes and ever growing madness. This is not your average crime story. Sometimes it's hard to understand what and why things are happening. But the superb writing makes you look past that. And at the end, as in most crime stories, everything adds up. Probably.

When Cain opened the door and entered the room, he was back-lit from the corridor. He was a large man, tall with long arms that hung from wide shoulders with an aspect of weighted force, like a piece of prospecting machinery. He stood facing ____ sitting in his shadow and his chair. I swung the door shut behind Cain and the light slid away like it sensed trouble. The last thing it showed was his face turned to me, a good-natured face trying to figure out what joke we were playing on him. Then the darkness had crossed him and the three of us sank to the bottom of it.
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