Noted for his talent for creating suspenseful police dramas, William J. Caunitz is author of many New York Times best sellers. Cleopatra Gold, set in the New York nightclub circuit, carries undercover cop Alejandro Monahan deep into a drug kingpin’s empire. Alejandro is out to avenge his father’s murder—at the hands of Cleopatra herself.
Caunitz, a NYPD detective for more than 20 years, is a master of police blotter fiction. In the gritty, hardboiled world of the NYPD, Detective Matt Stuart works a shabby beat where homicides are his daily paper work. Tracking down an elusive killer, he is forced to face critical decisions when the trail leads to dangerous criminals who are not on the street, but in uniform.
"Finally gave up"
A madman is loose in New York, leaving a trail of slain women in his wake. With each new victim, the appetite of the media grows, until a full-fledged feeding frenzy is underway. Even more treacherous, a tragedy from the killer’s past has him bent on revenge against the entire city police force. Enter Detective John Vinda--one cop who doesn’t mind bending the rules a little bit to bring the vicious murderer to justice.
Detective Lt. Dan Malone has seen it all in two decades with the NYPD. Even the horribly violated, decomposing body of Sara Eisinger seems like just another standard murder case - until a little gold key leads to an after-hours sex club and some phone numbers in Sara’s address book connect her to the CIA.
Caunitz sets a new standard for police procedurals with a novel that probes the treacherous chains of command on both sides of the law, from the drug-strangled streets of New York's Washington Heights to One Police Plaza. A solid, searing novel of crime and corruption, of lives saved and lost on both sides of today's front lines, Chains of Command crackles with the gritty, authentic prose only a former NYPD detective could write.
"Worse Book I've Ever Heard!"
Detective Lieutenant, Matt Stuart, third generation New York cop, is precinct head in Pigtown, an old wiseguy neighborhood where the name remains but the pig farms are gone in a forgotten section of Brooklyn. Which is where Beansy Rutolo is found inside a refrigerator with his brains blown out.