![]() ![]() It’s hard to read a Fletch book without conjuring up this twit he played the character twice back in the eighties and now he’s linked forever in my mind with McDonald’s character. ![]() ![]() That is when he’s not “entertaining” his future mother-in-law and visiting with the good Inspector Flynn and his family.Ĭhevy Chase, with that smug, smirking frat boy face, almost ruined this book for me. With the police on his tail and a few other things to do beside prove his own innocence, Fletch makes himself at home in Boston, renting a van, painting it black, and breaking into a private art gallery. And Flynn wasn’t entirely convinced that the nineteenth-century Western artist Edgar Arthur Tharp really occupied most of Fletch’s thoughts. He wasn’t exactly uncooperative, but it wasn’t like he was entirely forthcoming either. Inspector Flynn found him a little glib for someone who seemed to be the only likely suspect in a pretty clear case of homicide. But when he arrives in his apartment to find a dead body, things start to get complicated. His Italian fiancée’s father had been kidnapped and presumably murdered, and Fletch is on the trail of a stolen art collection that is her only patrimony. The flight from Rome had been pleasant enough, even if the business he was on wasn’t exactly. ![]()
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