Saturday, July 25, 2026

Slice of P.I.: “30 for a Harry”

(Part of a series celebrating fictional private eyes.)



30 for a Harry, by Richard Hoyt (Penguin, 1984). Cover illustration by noted Polish painter Rafał Olbinski.

Published originally in a hardcover edition in 1981, this was the second of Hoyt’s nine novels starring John Denson, a journalist turned “soft-boiled” private investigator who operated in Seattle, Washington (though he later relocated to northern Oregon). “Consider him Gonzo-lite, Kevin Burton Smith explains in The Thrilling Detective Web Site. “Or maybe a New Age Northwest reincarnation of Shell Scott. Or just a hippy-dippy eye who has certainly inhaled.”

As Wikipedia explains, “-30- has been traditionally used by journalists in North America to indicate the end of a story or article that is submitted for editing and typesetting. It is commonly employed when writing on deadline and sending bits of the story at a time, via telegraphy, teletype, electronic transmission, or paper copy, as a necessary way to indicate the end of the article.”

Friday, July 24, 2026

Slice of P.I.: “True Detective”

(Above) True Detective (1986), with the artist’s hidden signature.


If you did not remember that July 24 is National and International Private Investigator Day, have no worries. I wouldn’t have a clue about it either, had not the blog Guns, Gams & Gumshoes—launched in 2009 by Colorado detectives Shaun Kaufman and Colleen Collins, but not updated since last summer—alerted me to this annual event way back in 2018. With the passage of each successive year, I try to remember to celebrate. More often than not, though, I forget.

But not this time. That’s because private eyes have been much on my mind lately, particularly one such character: Nathan Heller.

I was contacted in March by a writer who said he’d been laboring “for several years” on a “fully authorized” literary biography of award-winning Iowa crime novelist Max Allan Collins, creator of the aforesaid Mr. Heller. He went on to explain that he had read and been impressed by my long-ago interview with Collins in January Magazine, and wanted to know if I’d be interested in penning a foreword to his book.

Anyone who has kept up with my work in January or The Rap Sheet knows what a fan I am of Collins’ fiction, not just his Heller stories, but also his tales starring killer-for-hire Quarry, his Road to Perdition graphic novel and its prose sequels (another of which, Road to Hell, is in the works), his more than a dozen novels continuing the not-infrequently violent escapades of Mickey Spillane’s Gotham gumshoe, Mike Hammer, and of course, his sequel to Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon, released earlier this year. So I agonized for a full few hours before deciding my answer to the offer had to be “yes.”

In the end, I delivered a 2,850-word essay that talked about Collins’ creative influences, his position in the pantheon of modern crime writers, and the three protagonists he will be principally remembered for dispatching onto the mean streets of fiction. In addition, I recounted my discovery of his first Heller yarn, True Detective. This would have been in the mid-1980s, when I was working for a magazine in downtown Portland, Oregon. Looking for something new to read, I wandered one lunchtime into a nearby branch of J.K. Gill, a locally owned office supply store that did a rather brisk trade in books as well. Quickly, the 1986 Tor Books paperback version of True Detective (seen above) caught my eye, and as I recall in my foreword, “I couldn’t plunk down my hard-earned folding money fast enough to acquire a copy!”

The cover of that edition boasted three components to entice a young man of my bibliophilic inclinations: a Depression-era automobile adorned with gleaming silver grille, a wide wave of fender … and bullet damage to both the driver’s-side headlamp and front windshield. It wasn’t until I set about writing my foreword that I gave much thought to who was behind that art. The novel’s copyright page didn’t supply that information. Neither did that same page in True Crime, Tor’s release of Collins’ second Heller tale, which was published only months after True Detective and looked to carry a painting by the very same artist. However, the copyright page inside Tor’s 1987 edition of The Million-Dollar Wound, the third Heller outing, did credit its cover illustration to one Joe DeVito. Only then did I spot the name “DeVito” atop the grille of that shot-up car fronting True Detective. It seems the artist’s signature had been hiding in plain sight all along!

Artist, sculptor, and storyteller Joe DeVito.


Not much effort was required to locate a Web page for DeVito, which told me that he was born in New York City, grew up in New Jersey, “and graduated with honors from Parsons School of Design. … He is the founder of DeVito ArtWorks, LLC, an artist-driven trans-media studio dedicated to creating and developing imaginative properties across publishing, film, gaming, and fine art. Among its flagship creations are King Kong of Skull Island, War Eagles, and The Primordials.” It went on to mention that “Over the decades, DeVito has painted and sculpted many of pop culture’s most legendary figures—Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Spider-Man, Tarzan, The Shadow, Doc Savage, and even MAD magazine’s Alfred E. Neuman. His art has graced hundreds of book and magazine covers, collectible posters, trading cards, and concept designs for film and television.” Learn more here.

In response to an e-mail inquiry, DeVito said he has “many fond memories” of painting the covers for Max Allan Collins’ earliest three Heller books. “I began illustrating professionally 45 years ago, in 1981,” he said, “so from that perspective it was relatively early” that he undertook this assignment. What was his design process? “I believe I was given a synopsis when illustrating all three books and chose the scenes I wanted to illustrate. That said, I always ran various rough sketches by my [art director], Joe Curcio (an all-time favorite AD), before deciding on a final direction. I would then do a small color sketch to work out value/color/edges, etc. (much easier to make changes on a small sketch). Only then would I start the actual painting. I would normally draw up several thumbnail sketches to choose from, then Joe and I would discuss which one we thought worked best …”

(Left to right) DeVito’s fronts for True Crime (1986) and The Million-Dollar Wound (1987). Notice that unlike True Detective, each of these paintings contains a human. As the artist explains, “In Million-Dollar Wound I used myself in a WW II military uniform, and in True Crime I painted the reflection of a woman in the fender. The images of the figures were added later from separate photo shoots.”


Naturally, I was curious to know whether DeVito had done more with this trio of paperback titles than simply give them covers. Had he actually read the stories, and if so, what were his impressions? “I have always read both fiction and non-fiction in genres across the board,” he related. “That said, I am partial to historically accurate books and Max Allan Collins’ novels were what I would call ‘faction’ novels (fiction based in fact). I remember reading True Detective and enjoyed it, but can’t remember all the details after all these years.”

Most of what Joe DeVito told me didn’t make it into my foreword, despite its length. But a couple of things did. You will find those in the finished book, which may appear in print as soon as the end of this year. I’ll report more on that as time passes.

In the meantime, I don’t want to end Killer Covers’ celebration of fictional P.I.s with this single post. So over the next seven days or more, I shall roll out additional front from this subgenre. Stay tuned.

Tuesday, May 12, 2026

Because I Needed a Furst Fix ...



The Caribbean Account, by Alan Furst (Dell, 1983), with cover illustration by Ron Lesser. This was the last of three novels Furst penned in the late 1970s and early ’80s, before he gained fame as an author of historical spy fiction.

Like its predecessor, Your Day in the Barrel (1976) and The Paris Drop (1980), it starred “marijuana dealer Roger Levin (Levy in the first book), who has the habit of becoming caught up in espionage scams and helping in the retrieval of a missing heiress,” recalls Australian critic-blogger Jeff Popple. “They were fun, easy going reads, notable more for their cool tone and dialogue, than their plotting.” In 1981, the year of its original hardcover publication, Kirkus Reviews called The Caribbean Account “a third too long and sometimes sophomoric, [but] more consistently amusing than Levin's previous doings.”

The magazine offered this plot description:
This time Levin is hired by a lawyer friend to deliver $500,000 to a stranger at Miami’s Orange Bowl Stadium. And though the delivery goes okay, the stranger is then promptly murdered (the money stolen) before Levin’s eyes. So, back in N.Y., Levin demands to know what’s going on—and he learns that the $500,000 was, in effect, a ransom for the release of young, crazy, missing heiress Fiona De Scodellaire: in exchange for the dough, her latest cult/guru was supposed to kick her out and send her home. But now that scheme has fallen through, and Levin is hired to find the heiress and the cult’s hideout. He sleuths around, traces the cult to the isle of St. Maarten, locates pudgy Fiona (who immediately lusts for Levin), and uses the sex hookup to lure Fiona home. Then, however, a miserable, Levin-less Fiona is lured back to the isle by her Jim-Jones-y guru (for assorted kinky rituals)—and finally there’s a lethal showdown between Levin and the guru.
Kirkus went on to criticize Furst’s habit of mixing storytelling styles. “When he shifts from hard-boiled comedy and sex-farce to more emotional stuff (Levin’s love life, the death of his chum), the effect is lame,” its review read. “And the thin plot here is self-indulgently stretched out—with the guru’s verbose journal, with Levin’s fantasies, etc. But it’s reasonably entertaining overall—with enough truly stylish and funny moments to promise better things ahead if Furst can continue to get his spunky talent under control.”

Better things, indeed.

(Hat tip to Robert Deis for the cover scan.)

Thursday, April 23, 2026

Another Look: “Forbid Me Not”

Warning: Artistic inspiration drawn from book titles may vary.



Left: Forbid Me Not, by Blair Fuller (Berkley Books, 1958); cover illustration by Charles Copeland. Right: Forbid Me Not, by Blair Fuller (Berkley Medallion, 1962), featuring cover art by Robert K. Abbett. Originally published in 1957 by Harper & Brothers as A Far Place, this was apparently one of two novels penned by Fuller, a former editor of The Paris Review and onetime creative writing teacher at Stanford University (the other being Zebina’s Mountain, 1975). He passed away in 2011 at age 84.

Tuesday, April 7, 2026

The Shadows Know



Book cover design trends come … and some go. Others, however, manage to stick around far longer than seems advisable. Take images of people shown from the rear, for instance. Or aerial photos of snow-shrouded forests. Or spooky-looking trees. Or figures, especially women, running in fright (a holdover theme, really, from illustrated Gothic horror fiction of the late 20th century). Publishers spend a lot of time studying what book-front features sell best, and they can be slow to abandon a fad that has outlived its welcome.

One that’s become particularly ubiquitous on American crime, mystery, and thriller shelves over these last several years is silhouettes of people in windows. An example is the cover—above—of Mark StevensTwo Truths and a Lie, being released today by Thomas & Mercer. It’s the author’s second case for TV journalist Flynn Martin, following 2025’s No Lie Lasts Forever. (Speaking of trends, have you noticed how often versions of the words “lie” or “liar” appear in recent novel titles? Could this be Donald Trump’s influence?) A plot brief calls Two Truths both “taut” and “haunting,” and explains that in its 462 pages, Martin confronts a serial killer who’s copycatting behaviors of her quarry in the preceding yarn. “Scandal. Conspiracy. Murder,” we are promised, with the précis adding: “Flynn hardly knows where to begin―and if her stalker has their way, she might not live to see the end.”

The fact of this being only the second installment in a continuing series could undermine any “might not live” anticipation. But let’s just move on ...

If my memory is correct, it was with the publication of Gillian McAllister’s 2022 page-turner, Wrong Place, Wrong Time, that I initially twigged to the frequent occurrence of shadowy profiles in artwork used for this genre. By the time Lauren Willig’s 2025 mystery, The Girl from Greenwich Street (based on the first well-recorded murder trial in American history, in which both Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr participated), saw print, I had already begun to amass a file of cover images. Today, I have well over 100 specimens of the breed in my computer files.

Fear not: I won’t inflict all of them upon you. The following 50 images should prove how overworked this motif is. All of these employ photographs, though I suspect a number of them have been manipulated, adding silhouettes where they did not originally appear.

Click on any of the covers below to open an enlargement.




















































This brand of ominous artwork has clearly played itself out. It’s time for book designers to move on to something different.