From Publishers Weekly
Rinehart's 1920 mystery features a remote country house filled with suspects, a forbidden romance, a cache of hidden money and a mysterious killer known only as The Bat. But sadly, this novel does not adapt well to audio. Long, descriptive passages and repetitive conversations (particularly between wealthy spinster Cornelia Van Gorder, who insists there's no danger, and nervous maid Lizzie, who insists there is) can be skimmed over by the reading eye, but on audio they seem interminable, draining all suspense. Frasier is a competent but unremarkable narrator. She differentiates between male and female characters, but does not create distinctive voices. Her Irish accent for Lizzie is passable; her Japanese accent for butler Billy is laughable. This tale would probably work better as a radio play or audio theater, with a troupe of actors playing the parts. In that medium, a shrilling phone or a sudden scream would indeed startle the listener, and spooky music would create a more suspenseful atmosphere.
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
Product Description
THE BAT A remote country house filled with suspects, a forbidden romance, a cache of hidden money and a mysterious killer known only as The Bat. . . . "You've got to get him, boys -- get him or bust!" said a tired police chief, pounding a heavy fist on a table. The detectives he bellowed the words at looked at the floor. They had done their best and failed. Failure meant "resignation" for the police chief, return to the hated work of pounding the pavements for them -- they knew it, and, knowing it, could summon no gesture of bravado to answer their chief's. Gunmen, thugs, hijackers, loft-robbers, murderers, they could get them all in time -- but they could not get the man he wanted. "Get him -- to hell with expense -- I'll give you carte blanche -- but get him!" said a haggard millionaire in the sedate inner offices of the best private detective firm in the country. The man on the other side of the desk, man hunter extraordinary, old servant of Government and State, sleuthhound without a peer, threw up his hands in a gesture of odd hopelessness. "It isn't the money, Mr. De Courcy -- I'd give every cent I've made to get the man you want -- but I can't promise you results -- for the first time in my life."
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