FREE delivery: Wednesday, Dec 7 on orders over $25.00 shipped by Amazon.
Ships from: Amazon.com Sold by: Amazon.com
Other Sellers on Amazon
Follow the Author
4th of July (Women's Murder Club, No 4) Mass Market Paperback – June 1, 2006
|New from||Used from|
Enhance your purchase
The world's bestselling detective series has never been more suspenseful. Trapped in deadly showdowns, courtroom trials, and dangerous secrets, the Women's Murder Club must fight for their lives.
In a deadly late-night showdown, San Francisco police lieutenant Lindsay Boxer fires her weapon and sets off a dramatic chain of events that leaves a police force disgraced, a family destroyed, and Lindsay herself at the mercy of twelve jurors. During a break in the trial, she retreats to a picturesque town that is reeling from a string of grisly murders-crimes that bear a link to a haunting, unsolved case from her rookie years.
Now, with her friends in the Women's Murder Club, Lindsay must battle for her life on two fronts: in a trial rushing to a climax, and against an unknown adversary willing to do anything to hide the truth about the homicides-including kill again?
Books with Buzz
Discover the latest buzz-worthy books, from mysteries and romance to humor and nonfiction. Explore more
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
4th of JulyBy James Patterson
Warner VisionCopyright © 2006 James Patterson
All right reserved.
Chapter OneIT WAS JUST BEFORE 4:00 a.m. on a weekday. My mind was racing even before Jacobi nosed our car up in front of the Lorenzo, a grungy rent-by-the-hour "tourist hotel" on a block in San Francisco's Tenderloin District that's so forbidding even the sun won't cross the street.
Three black-and-whites were at the curb, and Conklin, the first officer at the scene, was taping off the area. So was another officer, Les Arou.
"What have we got?" I asked Conklin and Arou.
"White male, Lieutenant. Late teens, bug-eyed and done to a turn," Conklin told me. "Room twenty-one. No signs of forced entry. Vic's in the bathtub, just like the last one."
The stink of piss and vomit washed over us as Jacobi and I entered the hotel. No bellhops in this place. No elevators or room service, either. Night people faded back into the shadows, except for one gray-skinned young prostitute who pulled Jacobi aside.
"Give me twenty dollars," I heard her say. "I got a license plate."
Jacobi peeled off a ten in exchange for a slip of paper, then turned to the desk clerk and asked him about the victim: Did he have a roommate, a credit card, a habit?
I stepped around a junkie in the stairwell and climbed to the second floor. The door to room 21 was open, and a rookie was standing guard at the doorway.
"Evening, Lieutenant Boxer."
"It's morning, Keresty."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, logging me in, turning his clipboard to collect my signature.
It was darker inside the twelve-by-twelve-foot room than it was in the hallway. The fuse had blown, and thin curtains hung like wraiths in front of the streetlit windows. I was working the puzzle, trying to figure out what was evidence, what was not, trying not to step on anything. There was too damned much of everything and too little light.
I flicked my flashlight beam over the crack vials on the floor, the mattress stained with old blood, the rank piles of garbage and clothing everywhere. There was a kitchenette of sorts in the corner, the hot plate still warm, drug paraphernalia in the sink.
The air in the bathroom was thick, almost soupy. I swept my light along the extension cord that snaked from the socket by the sink, past the clogged toilet bowl to the bathtub.
My guts clenched as I caught the dead boy in my beam. He was naked, a skinny blond with a hairless chest, half sitting up in the tub, eyes bulging, foam at his lips and nostrils. The electric cord ended at an old-fashioned two-slice toaster that glinted up through the bathwater.
"Shit," I said as Jacobi entered the bathroom. "Here we go again."
"He's toast, all right," said Jacobi.
As commanding officer of the Homicide detail, I wasn't supposed to do hands-on detective work anymore. But at times like this, I just couldn't stay away.
Another kid had been electrocuted, but why? Was he a random victim of violence or was it personal? In my mind's eye, I saw the boy flailing in pain as the juice shot through him and shut his heart down.
The standing water on the cracked tile floor was creeping up the legs of my trousers. I lifted a foot and toed the bathroom door closed, knowing full well what I was going to see. The door whined with the nasal squeal of hinges that had probably never been oiled.
Two words were spray-painted on the door. For the second time in a couple of weeks, I wondered what the hell they meant.
Excerpted from 4th of Julyby James Patterson Copyright © 2006 by James Patterson. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
- Publisher : Warner Vision Books (June 1, 2006)
- Language : English
- Mass Market Paperback : 416 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0446613363
- ISBN-13 : 978-0446613361
- Item Weight : 9.6 ounces
- Dimensions : 4.3 x 1.4 x 7.5 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #42,625 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Top reviews from the United States
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
WARNING: This book contains a spoiler if you have not read THIRD DEGREE, the previous installment in this series. If you plan to read that book, do not read this book first. Also, skip the remainder of this paragraph, which comments upon the shocking conclusion to that story. One major difference from the first three entries in this series is that ADA Jill Bernhardt was brutally murdered near the conclusion of that story. Thus, when the remaining three members meet at the neighborhood cafe Susie's, there is a void as Jill's memory still intrudes upon their thoughts. Furthermore, by the conclusion the author verifies the reader's suspicion that this novel has been used as a bridge to reconstitute the Club.
One of the obvious differences from the earlier books in the series is that Patterson partners with a new co-author, Maxine Paetro. Judging from the differences in style and tone and the injection of more humor, it appears that while Patterson undoubtedly sketched the plot since he owns the franchise, it is highly likely that Mrs. Paetro wrote the majority of the story. Hopefully, Patterson will continue to utilize her skills in future episodes. The second and most important difference is that this is definitely a book about SFPD Lt. Lindsay Boxer with other club members playing only periperal roles with the exception of a few important contributions from Chief Medical Examiner Claire Washburn. The third difference is that most of the action takes place while Lindsay is recuperating in the town of Half Moon Bay and her actions are totally outside the scope of her official duties. Last, the gruesome detailed violence which came to dominate some of the later novels in the Alex Cross series (especially those involving the Mastermind) is more prevalent; while it is integral to the plot in this case I nevertheless did not enjoy it and reduced my rating by half a star because of this factor.
The story begins with the body of a young man found electrocuted in a bathtub in a seedy hotel in the Tenderloin District of SF. Lindsay is called to the scene and ominously notes the words NOBODY CARES which have been spray painted on the door. Despite the fact that this murder is similar to another recent homicide, the invisible nature of the victims means that the cases have received only cursory media attention. However, Lindsay is very trouble by the fact that they bear a remarkable similarity to a still unsolved case which she investigated when she first joined the police force. A young male was found murdered in his hotel room and the same phrase was painted on the wall; the fact that she has never even been able to identify the victim still distresses her. Soon she and her former partner Warren Jacobi engage in a near fatal car chase in pursuit of some suspects, the subsequent showdown has potentially disastrous consequences for everyone concerned when a brief firefight erupts as the two police officers attempt to rescue the two teenagers trapped in their wrecked automobile.
While Jacobi recovers in the hospital, Lindsay flees SF to hide from the press while awaiting the trial which will determine the course of her career. However, the peaceful community in which she is staying (accompanied by her border collie Martha while babysitting for Penelope, her sister's Vietnamese potbellied pig) is increasingly terrified by several apparently random but very grisly murders. Lindsay decides to unofficially investigate, an action which both alienates the local police chief and soon puts her life in danger. Meanwhile, the reader is quite effectively treated to brief glimpses into the mind of the anonymous killer(s) in a way which increases the suspense without revealing any helpful information.
The action moves quickly to a climax, and the final outcome is quite ingenious if quite improbable. The title of my review refers to the three parallel and interlated storylines. First, what will happen to Lindsay and will these events lead to the Women's Murder Club being reconstituted by the end of the story. One new candidate soon emerges, but the outcome is not clear until the conclusion. Second, as the dead bodies pile up we soon wonder how many members will join the Victims' Club (my term, but the author can use it in the next book if she wants) before the murderers are caught. Third, it soon becomes clear there is a methodical Murderers' Club with a very specific agenda operating in Half Moon Bay. An essential element of the clever plot is that we only know them by their very descriptive nicknames for themselves.
This is an excellent beach read, or in my case just the right type of story for a busy airport and a few hour plane flight. As usual in the recent formulaic Patterson mystery/detective books, the lack of character development combined with the rush to conclusion after the case has been solved and the consequent loose ends left dangling (less than usual) kept it from receiving a higher rating
As always, a good read!!
Boxer is put on forced vacation while recuperating from her wounds and awaiting the trial that will either clear her of all wrong doings or end her career. She relaxes at her sister's home which is in the town where a homicide cold case of 10 years previous took place. This case has haunted Boxer for all these years. As Boxer attempts to relax, homicides continue to haunt the small town where she is staying. She tries to connect the dots between the cold case and the latest homicides. There is definitely a serial killer(s) on the loose. Can Lindsay stop him/her/them? In spite of her difficulties with health and career, Boxer continues to be a super sleuth. Even tho' some other reviewers say they knew who the serial killers were from the beginning.....I was somewhat surprised. Enjoy this book for what it is....an entertaining read that just may keep you reading and guessing until the end.
Top reviews from other countries
Lindsay is one lucky girl , she has the SFPD on her side, Claire, Cindy and her faithful Martha. Joe is making occasional appearances due to his work but when he does she is finding the separation worse each time he goes. A couple of new kids on the block in Yuki and Conklin .I can't put Mr Patterson down my bed time is getting later and later
I felt the book dragged on a bit andit was made from nothing, and even though it wasn't cram packed with fast-pace, nail biting action it was a refreshing break in the series and it was nice that more was revealed about the primary character.
Worth a buy, as the other books that follow become increasingly better.
One thing is clear. It’s not the first time we experience a lack of expected action on behalf of certain authorities which drives one to take the law into your own hands. Wrong though it is.
A good read.