After 1950’s private eye, Axel Hatchett, is hired to protect a used car salesman from the threatened crime of murder, Hatchett soon finds himself in a cozy nest of rattlesnakes - literally! When the car dealer is bumped off, and Hatchett’s prime suspect is murdered, the mystery deepens. Axe is forced to sift through a deck of also-ran suspects - that include poachers, witches, and a snake breeder - to solve the murder before another corpse, perhaps his, is added. To make matters harder, he’s falling for a mouthy waitress employed in a sleazy diner…. __________ Grumpy 1950’s gumshoe, Axel Hatchett, has some words to say about Glimmer In A Glass Eye, the second humorous noir novel in his Axel Hatchett Mystery series. Used car salesmen, a cozy garage full of snakes, some witches, and a couple of stiffs. That’s what I had to face to solve this case. And you think your job stinks! When my car dealer client was bumped off - what a crime, huh? - I thought I’d found a prime suspect for the killing. But then that guy got put on ice as well. That left me with more possible suspects than cards in a deck, and I’m not much for Old Maid or Animal Rummy. I found myself wading through widows, witches, poachers, bartenders, old soldiers, and even-God help me!-a librarian. My nose was twitching in all directions, but I couldn’t find a scent I liked. Well, maybe the widow’s perfume. With two corpses already in the morgue, I knew I better get to work fast before a third dead body joined the party…like mine. I didn’t cotton to becoming the next murder victim. Between trying not to sit on poisonous vipers dumped in my car, to getting beat up and bounced from a sleazy bar by an Amazon bimbo, I was sweating overtime just to stay on my feet. My former client’s widow-a real looker, no less-had hired me to not only find out who had murdered her husband, but who had shot his possible killer. What a can of worms! Still, better than a can of rattlesnakes! To make things worse, my unreliable mechanic still had my car on his operating table. I was driving a loaner as flashy as a gangster’s fire truck. I don’t really mind rubbing elbows with swell dames, and this case had three of them, but I had another siren to worry about, one about as loud as an ambulance. Her name’s Tracy, and she slings hash at one of the worst diners my stomach has ever shaken hands with. There’s something about her greasy little frown and humorous barbs that I can’t say ‘no’ to. What’s happening to me? Now I’ve got to pay for dates! The life of a detective is not what you’ve seen on your television. In the real world, the bad guys aren’t such bad shots, and the heroes aren’t all that smart. Thanks, Axe! Good luck with your next case. We hope you survive!