Coming in 2027: The Treasure of Indian Key
The palooka was dead. Holy mackerel, was he dead. You don’t drop like an icebox from Florida’s tallest building and walk away all jake and go to lunch. Two Miami Daily News editors outside heard a scream. It went on and on and changed in tone. Someone falling. They saw the guy hit the roof where the first four floors stick out from the seventeen-story tower. Even from where they were, they heard the thud.
In the 1920s and 1930s, Florida was one big chunk of land to be carved up and traded for dollar bills. Naturally, fair play was not part of the equation. Predatory land agents, shady gamblers, rum runners and moonshiners, pimps, bank robbers, and, of course, murderer, all came on down. To fight them, you needed an on-the-ball sleuth who could use his quick thinking, his contacts, and what he knew about his home state, from one end to the other. That’s Nate Moran.