The Mysterious Mr. Browning

A soot-stained magnate drapes himself in the tatters of Red Harrigan, prowling Detroit’s gin-soaked basements where jazz coughs through broken brass; the city’s river, a black mirror, swallows his tire tracks and the ghosts of Model-T’s. Night after night, Walter Miller’s Janus-faced plutocrat engineers heists with clockwork bravado—vaulting rooftops, slipping handcuffs, trading muzzle flashes with a relentless gumshoe—until the final mask slips: the hunter is blood, the quarry is kin, and the labyrinth was always a mirror.