Taxi! Taxi

HER BROTHER WENT TO WORLD WAR II TO FIGHT FOR HIS COUNTRY - SHE STAYED HOME TO FIGHT FOR HIS BUSINESS - SHE WAS HER BROTHER'S KEEPER

“A writer of distinction.” —The Detroit News

When Maggie McTigg's brother Michael McTigg went off to fight in World War II, he left his taxicab company in her hands, as the only member of the family with a lick of business sense, he asked her to keep it running while he was gone.
Maggie took it as a sacred trust, her own contribution to the war efforts, and resolved that it would still be operating when the conflict was over, he was finally was demobbed and returned home – no matter what it took and what she had to do.
Since most men were off fighting, she hired women drivers to fill their slots, and when she found out how the drunken men they picked up after hours acted, Maggie hired the toughest women she could find to drive – and that settled the late night male passengers down more than a bit.
When the rival cab company, run by mobsters, started sabotaging her brother's taxies, Maggie fought fire with fire, and the rival's cabs were out of commission for days.
But when a man was gunned down just outside her office over "more than five and less than ten millions," Maggie wonders if at last she might be getting in over her head – just how far will a woman go to keep her soldier brother's heritage alive for him until a war is over?
Meet Maggie McTigg, an outspoken, zany, endearing and fearless woman, and a classic Kelland heroine.
And a typical cast of offbeat Kelland characters:
Dougall Maibe, who kept turning up at Maggie's with sandwiches and coffee, after every disturbing event; but was he there because he caused the events, was trying to stop them – or was just fascinated by Maggie?
Toots, Maggie's best friend and self-elected bodyguard of pugilistic ambitions, who could lift a filled steamer trunk with one arm and yearned to change the fact that through throughout history "menfolks had hogged all the slugging."

Sime McCarthy, hoodlum on the rise, had an interest in every illicit activity in town and an eye on taking over the mob, and wasn't beneath solving his problems with guns – not even when the problem was a woman.
The mysterious passenger, identity unknown who left behind a brief case containing a Gideon Bible, a clipping from a New York newspaper, a photograph of a scantily dressed woman, a 32-caliber automatic – and a clue to the location of loot worth "more than five and less than ten million" dollars.
Anton Marsayrik, a leader of men, the many refugee Carpathian glass blowers who had come to work a local factory – he knew a kindness when he saw it.
Paddy the Mop, leader of the town's large Irish population, who believed ”a little honest graft from pavin' streets or erectin' the county buildin' does small harm" – but considered Sime McCarthy and killing beyond the pale.
Eugene, he thought of himself as his boss' trained snake, and his gun as the fangs, he dreamed of putting a bullet into Maggie – he'd never seen Toots wield a steamer trunk.
Powell Lee Coffin, high-class criminal, who fell genuinely in love with Maggie, she knew he was sincere when he asked her to sail around the world with him as "a kind of high-class hussy."

Another suspenseful, pixilated, classic romantic Kelland thriller from the pages of the legendary Saturday Evening Post, never before reprinted – first time in book form!

“Bright and breezy mystery and romance.” —Kirkus Reviews

Clarence Budington Kelland was author of nearly 100 novels of mystery and romantic suspense, had enough careers for several men: attorney, reporter, manufacturer of clothespins, director of a major newspaper group, and more. Kelland became best known as a fiction writer, penning some 100 novels, and selling them as serials to the biggest and highest paying magazines of the time—like the Saturday Evening Post, The American Magazine, Colliers, and Cosmopolitan. Many were immortalized on film, of which the romantic suspense comedy and Oscar-winner, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, is undoubtedly the most famous. Kelland appeared alongside Agatha Christie, Rex Stout and Erle Stanley Gardner in the same magazines, but was the most popular of the four. The New York Times described Kelland’s novels as “lively stories, designed to prick the jaded palate, that keep readers pleasantly entertained” and noted that “Kelland demonstrates the emotions of his lovers with a psychological penetration.” Kirkus Reviews called his novels “Bright and breezy, with plus appeal for murder-mystery addicts.” His magazine publishers kept besieging him for more novels because every time they serialized one of them (typically in 6-8 installments), circulation shot upward. Kelland obliged, and produced far more each year than his publisher (Harper and Row) could keep up with, leaving more than three dozen unpublished in book form when he died. His inimitable characters, trademark dialogue and deftly plotted stories, according to Harper, “made him an American tradition and won him more loyal, devoted readers than almost any other living author.” Kelland, as ever self-depreciating, simply described himself as “the best second-rate writer in the world.” His legions of fans, old and new, would likely disagree. There was nothing second-rate about his work.