Word: lymington
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...ricocheting bullet that rendered him lame. Who is so naive, he confesses himself, that he doesn't even know Atlanta has a professional basketball team. Who as a boy of 29 faced the choice: will I be a Supreme Court Justice or will I be "guardian of Lymington" and chose to stay as the police chief of his home town. And ever since has shouldered the various petty sins of his constituency--their drunkeness, their rowdiness, their B&E's, their narrowness--without uttering so much as a complaint. Becoming slightly reflective and mellow...
This, anyway, is Nye Richardson Gifford, 63, chief of the Lymington Police and a certain mixture of Philip Marlowe and Christ who has had to wait to shoulder his greatest human burden and solve his biggest crime until now, the beginning of this novel. Until a sunny August afternoon in 1972 and the discovery, on a back road in Lymington, of the body of a youngish woman, her identity blasted past police identification by four .38 caliber slugs to the face...
...profound order within that community. Gifford's dedication to the community is so abiding that he feels called upon to write its history upon his retirement. The obliteration of Kimberly Ann Regan within his purview is too much for Gifford to be able to reconcile to his conception of Lymington and its order. He must find...
This book is about loss of innocence, then. Gifford's quest for the answer only convinces him of the fragility of the order he reveres; he sees that the lies of urban civilization will continue to make incursions into Lymington of a more destructive nature than the simple murder of Kimberly Ann Regan. Shopping malls, vinyl tombstones, and seaside development corporations are confounding the natural beauty of his town in more lasting ways than the incidental dumping of a bloody corpse on its sacred soil...
Three Reefs. In August of 1950, Major Hayter weighed anchor at Lymington and beat his way by easy stages eastward across the Mediterranean, past Suez and down to Aden. He was in no hurry, and he was happy to pick up some spare change by ferrying Moslems across the Red Sea. In India he spent six months working ashore and saving money. Then he sailed on, past Singapore and Surabaya...