Death Elects a Mayor is a book from 1939, so a big of an older read. And, to be completely honest, I picked it up (wherever it was – book sale of some sort) because the spine (I have the hardback) has a sweet picture of a skeleton. But as a read it turned out awfully fine, a sort-of combination of old skool political backdealings combined with hospital intrigue combined with murder. That’s a good drink right there. And it contains the below quote, which I think is fine, in a 1939 way:
The three men were drinking highballs mixed from a bottle of the mayor’s whiskey standing on a bedside table, and cracking smutty stories while they laid plans for the coming campaign. From their happy expressions the machine must have given signs of functioning smoothly. Most of what they said concerned what they were going to after the election.
—Death Elects a Mayor, James G. Edwards, MD