What could be finer than a peaceful Sunday morning? Just about anything if your name happens to be Kit Baxter and your hobbies include fighting injustice, protecting the innocent and gliding over the city as The Flying Squirrel. But getting the city's mighty champion out of the garden and away from the newspaper is another matter entirely. If there's to be any excitement, The Red Panda will have to find it in The Sunday Supplement!
A mysterious stranger dies in the street in front of the fashionable Club Macaw. Were his claims of membership simply the sad ravings of yet another victim of hard times, or is there something far more sinister at work? Could he truly have been the son a wealthy house, long thought dead? Can even The Red Panda and The Flying Squirrel succeed in a struggle with The Hand of Fate?
Every man has his ghosts. Old square-jaw didn't figure he had any right to expect to be the exception. But sometimes the past takes on flesh and looks you in the eye... and things can never be quite the same afterwards. When that moment comes for Jack and Trixie, will it bring down the whole house of cards, coffee and gaudy metaphors; or will it re-introduce those most contradictory concepts - Justice and the Happy Ending?
They say all's fair in love and war, and Jack and Trixie are about to put that to the test. When Jack finds a drowned rat of a piano player who's both struck by love and several dozen gangsters, love and war don't seem like such different concepts anymore. It's a mad charge into the lion's den, all in the name of romance. Even the hard-boiled have their soft spots.
Jack may not know much about art, but he knows what he likes... and what he doesn't. He doesn't much like Nick Franklin's looks, or his self-satisfied grin or his manicured fingernails. What he does like is a client that can afford a fat insurance policy and a couple of gumshoes to go with it. But can Jack and Trixie fit in with the arty set enough to protect Franklin's latest "discovery"? Where will they stand when the Hammer of Justice falls?
It was the end of an uncharacteristic flurry of activity at the mighty world headquarters of Jack Justice Investigations. Trixie was crossing the final i's and dotting the final t's when she looked up and realized Jack was nowhere to be found. And he'd taken their old snitch Freddie the Finger Hawthorne with him into the ether. Sometimes a gal's just got to look a gift horse in the mouth , and if she ever wants to see ol' square jaw sashay in the front door again, this is one of those times. But can she and her "new partner" keep away from each other's throats long enough to turn up her old one, or is this the beginning of life with No Justice?
It was the third straight day of rain that did it. People had been cooped up for days, riding out the storm, and Black Jack is sure that a flurry of human misery, or as he likes to call it - rent money is on its way. But when he turns out to be more right than either he or Trixie could have guessed, they find themselves on an island in the middle of the city, with the water rising fast. An island of the "gaudy, hard-boiled metaphor" variety, admittedly; but sometimes that's the way it goes.
Mordecai Brasseau had been nothing but bad luck for Jack Justice Investigations since the first time he walked through the door. A nice man, but a jinx - quite possibly the unluckiest man in the world. Each time Jack and Trixie took on a case for him, they swore it would be the last. Sooner or later they had to be right... and the registered letter inviting them to the reading of Mordecai's will suggested that time had finally come.... Or, maybe not.