Low Rider

"Defined by a brilliant economy of style, a no-nonsense world view, and a lack of cliché....This bleak, funny...tale of used-car corruption, murder, and sex in a seamy, unremitting L.A. combines unlikely, grittily real characters with tough, clean prose," raved The Boston Book Review of the author's debut thriller, Bird Dog. Now, Reed brings back hardluck L.A. hero Harold Dodge in the eagerly awaited sequel to his "savage but jovial black comedy...[and] formidable set of wheels" (Literary Review). Life continues to throw Harold Dodge some wicked curves. But sometimes, the more wicked the curve the better. Take Vikki Covo, widow of Harold's former boss at the Joe Covo car dealership. She's a blonde, she's beautiful, and she's angling for a million-dollar settlement on her husband's life insurance policy. Vikki's a curve in the shape of a dollar sign, a woman Harold could learn to love almost as much as he loves his '64 Chevy Impala. If only she handled as well.... The deal: if Harold negotiates the insurance settlement, he'll get ten percent, plus Vikki's everlasting gratitude and affection. The problem: the police are treating Joe Covo's death as a suicide, meaning no payout on the insurance. And when Harold suggests the cops rule it a homicide instead, they're all too willing to oblige, figuring him as their number-one suspect. Staring a murder rap in the face, Harold must descend into a rogue's gallery of low-riding gangbangers, car thieves, chop-shop operators, and collection agents. Mixing business with pleasure is always a risky affair, and in this case Harold's in so deep he's getting the bends. From cowboy cops to jealous lovers, just about everybody wants a piece of him. Worst of all, the bad guys have sunk to a new low: they've stolen his Impala and stripped it for parts. Harold's going to find his Chevy and put it back together...even if it means going to hell and back in Vikki's four-cylinder rice-burner. From the moment the key is turned in its ignition, Low Rider takes off on a supercharged, high-speed adventure you'll wish would never end. "Reed does for low-life L.A. what Hiaasen does for Florida -- turns it into a seriocomic carnival of suspense" (Publishers Weekly).

Philip Reed began his writing career as a night police reporter for the City News Bureau of Chicago and later wrote for the Rocky Mountain News in Denver. In 1982 he moved to Los Angeles, where he directed his first play, True Blues. His plays have been staged in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, and New York. Besides his first Harold Dodge mystery, Bird Dog, for Pocket Books, Reed has written several nonfiction books, including Free Throw. He now lives in Southern California with his wife, poet Vivian Blackwell, and their two sons, Andrew and Tony.