Strip for Murder

Written by Richard S. Prather

Narrated by Heath Kizzier

Suspicious and dangerous accidents were happening. People were dying, including the private eye I had been sent to replace. I didn't like it. But hey, that's what I'm hired to do. I deal daily with murder and mayhem. The real problem was when I had to go undercover and UNCOVERED in a nudist camp, or as they called themselves "naturalist." Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against naked, especially when it comes in the form of one gorgeous blond tomato, but how did they expect me to protect anyone, when I have nowhere to conceal my gun?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books in Motion
• Release date: May 15, 2005
• ISBN: 9781596070318

Richard S. Prather

Richard S. Prather (1921–2007) was the author of the world-famous Shell Scott detective series, which has over forty million copies in print in the United States and many millions more in foreign-language editions abroad. There are forty-one volumes in the series, including four collections of short stories and novelettes. In 1986, Prather was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award by the Private Eye Writers of America. He and his wife, Tina, lived in Sedona, Arizona.

Reviews for Strip for Murder

[lyndainoregon · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Back in the 1950s, Richard S. Prather’s novels featuring Shell Scott, a white-blonde ex-Marine turned private eye, was wildly popular. The character was unrepentantly sexist, racist, and probably every other kind of –ist you could name. The books were filled with luscious broads, not-too-bright bad guys, flying bullets, and dead bodies, many of them delivered into that condition by Scott himself. The hero was endearingly goofy and not the sharpest crayon in the box, but he was generally smarter than the bad guys, most of whom had appropriately colorful names like Young Egg Foo, Garlic, and Three-Eyes.“Strip for Murder” was the eighth book in the series, and many critics consider it the one in which Prather really hit his stride. It’s a full-out loopy adventure that takes place largely at a nudist colony, and the title character, who also narrates, takes full advantage of the ogling opportunities there before managing to escape the bad guys in a hot-air balloon which eventually fetches up on the roof of Los Angeles’ city hall, with the waggish detective clad in an all-over suntan and nothing else.Don’t try to analyze this, or any of the Prather offerings, and leave your politically-correct outrage at the door. Just give yourself over to a couple of hours following a guy who tools around 1950s L.A. in a yellow Cadillac convertible and makes cracks like “she wore a V-necked white blouse as if she were the gal who’d invented cleavage”.