The Final Detail (Myron Bolitar Series #6)

The Final Detail (Myron Bolitar Series #6)

by Harlan Coben

Narrated by Jonathan Marosz

Unabridged — 9 hours, 9 minutes

The Final Detail (Myron Bolitar Series #6)

The Final Detail (Myron Bolitar Series #6)

by Harlan Coben

Narrated by Jonathan Marosz

Unabridged — 9 hours, 9 minutes

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Overview

In this classic sixth novel in the award-winning Myron Bolitar series, # 1 New York Times bestselling author Harlan Coben delivers a riveting, powerhouse thriller featuring one of the most fascinating and complex heroes in all of suspense fiction. Here is a twisting mystery of betrayal, family secrets, and murder filled with the sly humor, dead-on dialogue, and unforgettable characters that have made Harlan Coben one of today's must-read suspense authors.

For Myron Bolitar, sports agent and reluctant sleuth, it was a long-needed vacation. A tropical beach. A warm breeze. A little uncomplicated passion with a woman he hardly knows. But, most of all, a chance to clear his head after the death of a close friend.

It almost works-until his fiercely loyal, if sometimes morally challenged, friend Win shows up with a message that blasts Myron back to New York...and reality. Esperanza, Myron's best friend and partner at MB Sportsrep, has been arrested for the murder of a client, a fallen baseball star attempting a comeback.

Myron is determined to prove Esperanza's innocence. But she isn't speaking. And neither is her lawyer, except to say that Myron would do best to keep his distance, lest he hurt her case. Only Myron is already too close to the case to back away. For twelve years ago a young agent tried to help an up-and-coming athlete. It was a fatal mistake-and now Myron may have to pay the price.

To solve a case as bizarre as it is difficult, Myron will be obliged to view it from the strangest angles: a transsexual nightclub, a baseball owner with a long-lost daughter, a dubious drug test, an impossible murder scene, and a computer disk with the image of a disintegrating girl. But most bizarre of all is that as he tries to unearth, Myron's own investigation points to only one other suspect: himself...as this spellbinding novel twists, jolts, and careens towards its dazzling finish.


Editorial Reviews

barnesandnoble.com

We recently had the pleasure to ask sports mystery king Harlan Coben about his new novel, The Final Detail, his popular sports agent hero, the impression baseball leaves on our lives, and his thoughts on a Mets-Yankees World Series matchup. Enjoy what the very funny Coben has to say.

A Conversation with Harlan Coben

bn.com: What inspired you to create Myron Bolitar, a likeable sports agent? I never realized they actually existed until I read The Final Detail. But then, of course, this is fiction.

Harlan Coben: Saying "likeable sports agent" is a bit like saying "pleasing jock rot." Maybe that was part of the challenge. I never know what inspires what. The process is, I think, more a question of grind than inspiration.

bn.com: Myron has some vivid childhood memories of Yankee Stadium. Are any of those memories actually yours?

HC: The father and son stuff, sure. Ask most adults -- men and women -- to list off some rich childhood memories and I guarantee you that more will revolve around baseball than, say, school. I don't know why. The smells and sounds of baseball are wrapped up in us. I'll always remember the first game my dad took me too. Writing some of the scenes -- digging up these memories -- hurt, almost physically. Readers of all stripes seem to react to that in the book.

bn.com: Do you and your hero Myron Bolitar have anything in common?

HC: Most writers don't like to admit this, but yes, Myron is based somewhat on his creator, albeit with a bit of wish fulfillment tossed in the mix. We both, for example, have great relationships with our parents. We both know too much TV trivia, enjoy Broadway musicals too much, and would rather quote Felix Unger and Oscar Madison than Proust and Yeats. But Myron is funnier than Harlan Coben; he's stronger, more loyal, a better friend, and a helluva better basketball player. I do, however, have him beat in two areas: I'm a better dancer -- I think the correct term for my floor moves would be "snazzy" -- and I'm wiser in the opposite-sex department. I've been happily with the same woman since I was 20 -- I'm 37 now -- while Myron, well, simply put, is an idiot in the ways of women. While I'm jealous of Myron's relationship with his parents, he envies me big-time because I have what he really wants: a great wife and three great kids.

bn.com: The Final Detail touches on a serious problem in our society -- the impression that with talent, money, and fame comes a right to step freely across the line of right and wrong. As your novel points out, the more a person steps across that line, the more it fades and smears. How rampant is this blurring of the lines among professional athletes today?

HC: Pretty dang blurry. But not just for athletes. Myron and Win are often forced to play with those lines too. As I said in The Final Detail, the line between good and evil is not so different from the foul line on a baseball field. It's often made of stuff as flimsy as lime. It tends to fade over time. It needs to be constantly redrawn. And if enough people trample on it, the line becomes smeared to the point where fair is foul and foul is fair, where good and evil become indistinguishable from each other. This is the evil I want to explore. It's why I'm not big on psycho serial killers or that stuff.

bn.com: Have you been enjoying Major League Baseball '99 thus far? What do you think? Are we going to see a subway series?

HC: I don't know. Do you really want to watch a baseball game underground? Duh, duh, dum. Thank you, I'm here all week.

bn.com: What went into your decision to make Myron's partner and friend, Esperanza, bisexual?

HC: When I was in high school, I dated a lot of bisexuals. I'd mention sex; they'd say "Bye." Okay, old, old joke, but should we ignore the classics? Actually I didn't know Esperanza was bisexual until midway through the first book in the series. It shocked the hell out of me.

bn.com: Are you as hilarious in real life as your writing suggests? That bit about "The Sound of Music" killed me.

HC: No. In real life, I'm debonair and oh-so-good looking. Many people mistake me for Mel Gibson, but no one who can -- what's the word? -- see.

bn.com: Talk a tad about today's sports heroes and their responsibility as role models.

HC: They shouldn't be role models. Plain and simple. That's what fascinates me. I don't care who wins or loses or any of that. And it doesn't drive the books. But -- and this is going to sound high-falutin' -- the sports world is a super-intense, high-stakes microcosm. Every emotion is fervently raised to the tenth power. People care about winning and losing way too much. We treat kids who are barely old enough to vote like neo-gods. We make role models out of young men and women whose only claim to such a lofty title is the ability to hurl a sphere with great velocity or jump high or grow big muscles. The money, the power, the fame, the passion -- it's scary and it's a ripe arena for murder and suspense. Whoa, that was deep. Give me a second.

bn.com: What's up next for Myron Bolitar?

HC: I just finished a novel tentatively titled The Ghost in You, which Delacorte will release in May 2000. I don't want to reveal anything yet, but let's just say that Myron readers will be shocked to the core. How's that for a teaser?

Chicago Tribune

Superb...a twisty tale that continues to surprise as it entertains.

Los Angeles Times

Unpredictable.....a startling climax.

USA Today

The Edgar-winning author gives his characters memorable personalities. Myron Bolitar stands out.

Kirkus Reviews

Sports agent Myron Bolitar is free, white, and well over 21, so there's no reason he shouldn't drop everything at a moment's notice to go on a Caribbean idyll with CNN anchor Terese Collins. But he pays a high price for his three weeks of quality sex. When he returns, his partner, Esperanza Diaz, is gone from their New York office, arrested for the murder of their client Clu Haid. The aging Yankee pitcher had fought with Esperanza just days after failing a drug test and trying to track Myron down to warn him about some obscure danger. Now that Myron's friend Win Lockwood, who managed the securities account Clu had just withdrawn $200,000 from, has dragged him home, Esperanza refuses to talk to him; her lawyer tells him to take a hike; and Frank Ache, Jr., the mob scion whose agency has been poaching Myron's clients in his absence, doesn't want him poking around in the case either. No matter: Myron's off and running on an exhilarating trail that'll take him from a transsexual bar called Take A Chance, where you never know whether the bouncers beating you up are really men or not, all the way back in time to an episode from his own past that he'd like to forget. These adventures are greased by a thousand wisecracks, many of them funny and none of them developing the plot or deepening the characters. The crackerjack mystery itself does that: as in One False Move (1998), Myron is as skilled at solving puzzles as his creator is at devising them. Somebody should tell the guy he doesn't need all the putdowns to shine like a star. (Mystery Guild featured alternate; author tour)

From the Publisher

Sly humor, sophisticated plotting, and solid storytelling.”—Chicago Tribune

“Harlan Coben is the modern master of the hook-and-twist.”—Dan Brown

“This is a terrific entry in a terrific series.”—Kansas City Star

“Hilarious . . . unpredictable . . . a startling climax.”—Los Angeles Times

Product Details

BN ID: 2940171960476
Publisher: Penguin Random House
Publication date: 04/11/2006
Series: Myron Bolitar Series , #6
Edition description: Unabridged
Sales rank: 1,174,590

Read an Excerpt

The yacht stopped and dropped anchor. Win stepped down onto a motorized dinghy. Myron waited. He shifted his feet, bracing himself. When the dinghy was close enough to the shore, Win snapped off the motor.

"My parents?" Myron called out.

Win shook his head. "They're fine."

"Esperanza?"

Slight hesitation. "She needs your help."

Win stepped gingerly into the water, almost as though he expected it to hold his weight. He was dressed in a white button-down oxford and Lilly Pulitzer shorts with colors loud enough to repel sharks. The Yacht Yuppie. His build was on the slight side, but his forearms looked like steel snakes coiling beneath the skin.

Terese stood as Win approached. Win admired the view without ogling. He was one of the few men Myron knew who could get away with that. Breeding. He took Terese's hand and smiled. They exchanged pleasantries. Fake smiles and pointless bandies followed. Myron stood frozen, not listening. Terese excused herself and headed to the house.

Win carefully watched her saunter away. Then he said, "Quality derrière."

"Would you be referring to me?" Myron asked.

Win kept his eyes keenly focused on the, er, target. "On television she's always sitting behind that anchor desk," he noted. "One would never guess that she had such a high-quality derrière." He shook his head. "It's a shame really."

"Right," Myron said. "Maybe she should stand a couple times during each broadcast. Twirl around a few times, bend over, something like that."

"There you go." Win risked a quick glance at Myron. "Take any action snapshots, perhaps a videotape?"

"No, that would be you," Myronsaid, "or maybe an extra-perverse rock star."

"Shame."

"Yeah, shame, I got that." Quality derrière? "So what's wrong with Esperanza?"

Terese finally disappeared through the front door. Win sighed softly and turned toward Myron. "The yacht will take half an hour to refuel. We'll leave then. Mind if I sit?"

"What happened, Win?"

He did not answer, choosing instead to sit on a chaise longue and ease back. He put his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. "I'll say this for you. When you decide to wig out, you do it in style."

"I didn't wig out. I just needed a break."

"Uh-hmm." Win looked off, and a realization smacked Myron in the head: He had hurt Win's feelings. Strange but probably true. Win might be a blue-blooded, aristocratic sociopath, but hey, he was still human, sort of. The two men had been inseparable since college, yet Myron had run off without even calling. In many ways Win had no one else.

"I meant to call you," Myron said weakly.

Win kept still.

"But I knew if there was a problem, you'd be able to find me." That was true. Win could find a Hoffa needle in a Judge Crater haystack.

Win waved a hand. "Whatever."

"So what's wrong with Esperanza?"

"Clu Haid."

Myron's first client, a right-handed relief pitcher in the twilight of his career. "What about him?"

"He's dead," Win said.

Myron felt his legs buckle a bit. He let himself land on the chaise.

"Shot three times in his own abode."

Myron lowered his head. "I thought he'd straightened himself out."

Win said nothing.

"So what does Esperanza have to do with this?"

Win looked at his watch. "Right about now," he said, "she is in all likelihood being arrested for his murder."

"What?"

Win said nothing again. He hated to repeat himself.

"They think Esperanza killed him?"

"Good to see your vacation hasn't dulled your sharp powers of deduction." Win tilted his face toward the sun.

"What sort of evidence do they have?"

"The murder weapon, for one. Bloodstains. Fibers. Do you have any sunblock?"

"But how . . . ?" Myron studied his friend's face. As usual, it gave away nothing. "Did she do it?"

"I have no idea."

"Did you ask her?"

"Esperanza does not wish to speak with me."

"What?"

"She does not wish to speak with you either."

"I don't understand," Myron said. "Esperanza wouldn't kill anyone."

"You're quite sure about that, are you?"

Myron swallowed. He had thought that his recent experience would help him understand Win better. Win had killed too. Often, in fact. Now that Myron had done likewise, he thought that there would be a fresh bond. But there wasn't. Just the opposite, in fact. Their shared experienced was opening a whole new chasm.

Win checked his watch. "Why don't you go get packed?"

"There's nothing I need to bring."

Win motioned to the house. Terese stood there, watching them silently. "Then say good-bye to La Derrière and let's be on our way."

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