Choose an excerpt A Terrorizing Demonstration It's Too Late to Cry Chellini's Solution Brenda, My Starr The Homecoming The Next Best Thing The Whistleblower's Mistake The Dupe The Ghost of Rory Gallagher Serpent's Dance To buy Manhattan Noir, choose an online retailer from the list below. Amazon.com BarnesandNoble.com Books-A-Million indiebound.org You can also find this title at your local bookstore.   The Next Best Thing In the late 1940s, a jazz pianist with a miserable disposition sets in motion his plan to rob a bank. But his red-haired girl and her Mexican lover Maria have a plan of their own. He started showing up a half hour before the bank opened, and the tellers liked his serenade almost as much as his blue, blue eyes, and he brought black coffee for Puckett, knowing the ex-cop made him for the nasty bastard he'd become. Puckett had to piss before he took a second sip. "You holding out on me, Maxie?" asked the vice president, jaunty when he passed the Steinway. "Keeping that redhead for yourself?" "Looking for twins, Mr. Minthorn," he replied, toying with the waltz from "Carousel," playing it in 4/4 time. Maxie broke for lunch at two o'clock. Maria walked in eight minutes later. Seated aside Minthorn's desk, legs crossed and, with his eyes fixed on the underside of her brown thigh, she made her pitch. "But a man like you knows this," she added. "A man in your position." Flattery, and the way she said "position": lips pursed, her tongue peeking between her teeth for the little hiss. And Minthorn knew she was right. A bunch of people from Macy's and Gimbel's who cashed their checks were from the islands, janitors and bus boys and such, and they needed to bank somewhere. To have someone to greet them in Spanish, to help them, a gentle twist of the arm... "Whatever it is you invest, you make back quick," she said. "And someone as lovely as yourself to grace our branch..." Maria pretend to blush, bringing her tapered fingers to her throat. He hired her immediately, hoping her sense of propriety would wither in time. She waited outside the bank on Eighth, shivering as the lunch-time crowd rushed by, their shopping bags brimming. Coming back from Child's, Maxie turned onto the avenue, topcoat collar high, and he looked right at her as he pushed the revolving door to enter the heated lobby. She saw he hadn't recognized her, and she knew it was going to be all right. Appears in Manhattan Noir (Akashic) edited by Lawrence Block. Published in Spring 2006 All stories © Jim Fusilli 2005. Reprinted with permission. For permission to reprint, contact the author at jimfusillibooks@aol.com.