“There is a sucker born every minute.” - P.T. Barnum
I had a hard time placing when this story occurred…from some of the language, I would guess 1930s. However, telephone booths sprinkled throughout NYC threw me off. 1950s? ‘60s?
Either way Fred Fitch has to be the most gullible human being on the planet. I was frustrated with him. Worried about him. And down right done with him about half way through the novel. To call this a romp, would be accurate. Paranoia. So called friends. The long con. Money. Greed.
I like to tell you there was a “happily-ever-after.” but I don’t want to spoil it for you. Let’s just say that Fred got what he deserved and leave it at that.
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