Word: chattered
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Bandits is its own best plot summary. Part of Leonard's consummate narrative skill is his ability to camouflage complicated exposition as casual chatter. Thus it seems only natural that Jack Delaney, 40, a former jewel thief who has done time at a Louisiana penitentiary, should wind up working at the New Orleans mortuary owned by his brother-in-law Leo. Why is it, Leo wonders aloud, that every time they get a call to collect a corpse from the National Hansen's Disease Center at Carville, Jack calls in sick? Is he afraid of leprosy or what? The next...
This book is best, though, in the detail with which Hersch describes operations of the U.S. intelligence network. All over the Far East, men in super-secret listening posts are eavesdropping on Soviet fighter communications, radar signals, and even the radio chatter of Russian soldiers...
...house lights dim. The chatter pauses as the room falls into darkness. Suddenly the stage is assaulted by a wash of brilliant, clashing colors, the air throbs with musical tension and five college-age students leap onto the stage, armed with their instruments. The band, The Rhythm Method, has arrived...
...evidence they hope will show that Junior and his geriatric cohorts are the leaders of a murderous, brutal criminal conspiracy that reaches across the nation. In a dangerous four-year investigation, police and FBI agents had planted bugs around Mafia hangouts and listened to endless hours of tiresome chatter about horses, cars and point spreads while waiting patiently for incriminating comments. They pressured mobsters into becoming informants. They carefully charted the secret family ties, linking odd bits of evidence to reveal criminal patterns. They helped put numerous mafiosi, one by one and in groups, behind bars. But last week, after...
...villages still seem haunted by the ghostly reminders of what used to be. Children's toys and clothes litter the huts, bicycles lean carelessly against back walls, stew cakes in pots, crumpled bed sheets still bear the impress of daily life. But in the now deserted streets, no men chatter. No women call to their children. No chickens squawk. No insects buzz. "The silence is so deep," whispers a visitor to a relief worker. "I try not to listen," the medic responds. Yet it is all but impossible not to hear the echoes of the tragedy...