The Good Thief's Guide to Amsterdam

By Chris Ewan

Charlie Howard travels the globe writing suspense novels for a living, about an intrepid burglar named Faulks. To supplement his income---and to keep his hand in---Charlie also has a small side business: stealing for a very discreet clientele on commission.

When a mysterious American offers to pay Charlie 20,000 euros if he steals two small monkey figurines to match the one he already has, Charlie is suspicious; he doesn't know how the American found him, and the job seems too good to be true. And, of course, it is. Although the burglary goes off without a hitch, when he goes to deliver the monkeys he finds that the American has been beaten to near-death, and that the third figurine is missing.

Back in London, his long-suffering literary agent, Victoria (who is naive enough to believe he actually looks like his jacket photo), tries to talk him through the plot problems in both his latest manuscript and his real life---but Charlie soon finds himself caught up in a caper reminiscent of a Cary Grant movie, involving safe-deposit boxes, menacing characters, and, of course, a beautiful damsel in distress.

Publishers Weekly called Chris Ewan's The Good Thief's Guide to Amsterdam one of the "best books for grownups."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Nov 13, 2007
• ISBN: 9781429968683

Chris Ewan

Chris Ewan, who lives on the Isle of Man, began his crime-writing career with The Good Thief's Guide to Amsterdam, which was called one the "best books for grownups" by Publishers Weekly and AARP The Magazine, and one of the best thrillers of the year by the London Times. The Huffington Post also named Ewan one of America's favorite British authors in a readers' poll. He is the author of the Good Thief novels and the stand-alone thriller, Safe House.

Book preview

ONE

I want you to steal something for me.

It wasn't the first time I'd heard those words, though usually the person saying them liked to warm up to it first. Not the American. He got straight to the point, casual as you like. If I was a lesser writer, I'd tell you it set alarm bells ringing inside my head or that a chill ran down my spine. In truth, it just made me listen a little harder.

You've made a mistake, I told him. I'm a writer, not a burglar.

Some writer. I've been following your work. You're good.

I smiled. A hack with a pricey education, nothing more.

Oh sure, as a writer. But as a thief, now that's a different story. You've got talent, kid, and that ain't easy to find around here.

Around here was Amsterdam. To be exact, around here was a dim-lit brown bar on a northern stretch of the Keizersgracht canal, a twenty minute stroll or a ten minute bicycle ride from my apartment. It was a cramped space, warmed more by the closeness of the walls than the fading embers in the fire across from our table. I'd been here before, though only in passing, and the name had meant nothing to me when the American suggested it as a meeting point. Now here I was again, a glass of Dutch beer in front of me and a tricky proposition beyond that.

The American had contacted me through my website. Most suspense writers have a website nowadays and you can go there to find all kinds of information about me and my writing. There's a page for each of the burglar books I've written to date and a News section with details of any readings I'm involved in, as well as some personal stuff my fans might care to know, such as where I happen to be living while I'm writing my latest novel. There's also a link that allows readers to e-mail me and that was how the American had been in touch.

A job for you, he'd written. Name your price. Hear me out at Café de Brug. 10pm Thursday (tomorrow).

I had no idea who the American was, of course, and far less reason to trust him, but then again, the lure of a new job was something I'd long since given up trying to fight. Because the truth, in case you haven't already guessed, is that I don't just write books about a career thief - I also happen to be one.

This talent you're referring to, I said. Supposing it did exist.

Supposing, I like that.

Well, just supposing, then, that I really do have this talent - I'm curious how you'd like me to use it.

The American checked over my shoulder, towards the doorway, then over his own shoulder, towards the rear of the bar. When he was satisfied that his neck worked just fine and that nobody was eavesdropping on our conversation, he reached inside the front pouch of his windbreaker and removed a small object that he placed on the wooden table before me. The object, it turned out, was a monkey figurine, about the size of my thumb. The monkey was sat on his haunches, knees up around his chest, with his front paws covering his eyes and his mouth wide open, as if in shock at whatever it was he'd just seen inside the windbreaker.

See no evil, I said, half to myself, and the American nodded and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

I picked up the monkey for a closer look. From the weight and the dry, gritty feel of it, I could tell the figurine had been rendered in plaster of Paris, which went some way to explaining why the finish was not very precise. The look of astonishment I'd read on the monkey's mouth could just as easily have been intended to show fear or even dumb joy by its maker. All things considered, it was hard to imagine it was worth more than a handful of pounds, or even dollars or euros for that matter.

There are two more of these monkeys, the American said, not altogether surprising me. One covering his ears, the other covering his mouth.

You don't say.

I want you to steal them.

I tilted my head to one side. Supposing I could… obtain them for you. I'm not sure it would be worth my while.

The American leaned towards me and cocked an eyebrow. How much to make it worth your while?

I thought about a figure, then doubled it.

Ten thousand euros.

You want it tonight?

I laughed. But this is worthless, I said, tossing the figurine back to the American, who scrambled to catch it before it struck the table.

Not to me, kid, he told me, carefully dusting the monkey down and then placing it back inside the pouch of his windbreaker. What do you say?

I'll think about it. Another beer?

I stood and picked up our glasses without waiting for his answer and crossed to the bar, where a not unattractive blonde was filling some finger dishes with cashew nuts. She was tall and lean and tanned in that year-round Scandinavian way that never fails to make me feel impossibly English. You could tell she was used to fools like me hitting on her and when her eyes met my own, it was with a look that was like a ready apology.

Twee pils astublieft, I managed, meanwhile holding up two fingers just in case the fact I was stood before a beer tap at a bar with two empty beer glasses left her in any doubt as to what I was aiming to buy.

Of course, she said, in clipped English.

She pushed her hair behind her ear, then took one of the glasses and began to fill it, and meanwhile I tried to think about something other than the freckles on her neck and ended up considering how the American had found out about me instead. It was intriguing, alright, because I was always careful to keep my thieving a secret, and that was one of the reasons I travelled around so much. The only person I talked about that side of my character with at all was back in London and here in Amsterdam I'd carried out just three jobs in the past four months, none of them the type of thefts to draw much attention. True, one of the jobs had been a commission, but the man who'd hired me was a Belgian who passed his instructions through a Parisian fence I happened to trust and it seemed unlikely the Belgian would have told the American about me, given we'd never actually met. So how had the American known to contact me? And why on earth did he want me to steal two worthless figurines?

Your beers, the blonde said, scraping the froth from the top of the half-pint glasses with a plastic spatula and placing them in front of me.

That man, I said, indicating the American with a nod of my head. Has he been in here before?

Yes. He is an American.

Does he come here a lot?

She pouted. Many times, I think.

You know his name?

No, she said, shaking her head. But he is polite, always tip-ping

Of course he was. I laid a few extra notes on the table and collected our beers.

The American was in his late fifties, I guessed, though it was hard to gather much else about him. He had a thick head of grey hair, cut in a jagged, youthful style, and he looked relatively fit for his age. The windbreaker suited him, making him appear sporty, like the type of guy who enjoyed sailing in his spare time, and I had it in mind to pay attention to his hands and look for signs of rope chaffing when he pulled me out of my thoughts by saying, You want to know my name, all you gotta do is ask. It's Michael.

Michael…

You don't have to say it so slow.

I was waiting for your surname.

Now that could be a long wait. The monkeys, he went on, are in two locations. It's important to me that you take them both. It's also important that you take them on the same night.

Two separate locations?

Uhhuh.

In Amsterdam?

That's right. Two places, fifteen minutes apart by foot.

And these places are private dwellings?

Private dwellings, he echoed. Jeez. One's an apartment and the other's a houseboat, alright? You don't have to worry about alarms and you don't have to worry about being disturbed because the night you do this, both places'll be empty.

How come?

"Because the men that live in these two dwellings will be having dinner. Here. With me."

I gave this some thought. I wasn't crazy about what I was hearing.

Sounds complicated, I said. Why don't you take the monkeys yourself? I can't imagine they'll be missed.

For one, he said, hitching an eyebrow, the guy in the house-boat has a safe and he's kind of guarded about the combination. The other guy, he has an apartment in the Jordaan - it's on the top floor of a five storey building and he happens to have three door locks I know of.

But no alarms.

None.

You're sure?

Listen, you can't have an alarm on a houseboat - you get a storm or a barge goes by too fast, the movement of the canal water'll trigger it.

And the apartment?

Like I said, it's on the fifth floor. Way I see it, the guy figures he don't need no alarm.

These locks…

Won't be a problem for you. Me, I don't have the keys or your talent, which is how come we're having this conversation.

Something else occurs to me, I said. Supposing these two men value their figurines in the same way you do, well, what if they go home after your meal and notice the figurines are gone - they'll suspect you.

He shook his head. They trust me.

Maybe. But if they do suspect you and they come looking for you, well, you can see how my name is liable to crop up.

Not from these lips.

You say. But I don't like it.

Well try this for size - I don't plan on being any place they can find me. We meet at seven and we'll be done eating by ten - that gives you three hours to do your job, which I figure is plenty of time. The bar here closes at eleven and I have it in mind for you to meet me with the figurines at a half after ten. If all goes to schedule, I'll be out of Amsterdam before midnight. And I ain't coming back.

You're leaving the Netherlands?

Well now, there's no need for you to know that, is there?

I paused, tried something else.

The timing's kind of tight. Say I can't get into this safe.

You'll get in.

Or I can't find the figurine in the apartment.

Guy keeps it under his pillow.

I frowned. He sleeps on it?

Sleeps with it for all I care. But you'll find it under his pillow.

I backed away from him and looked about the room. The blonde was wiping down the bar with a damp cloth, her hair dancing around her face. The only other customers were three Dutch men drinking beer at a table near the front door. They were laughing and clapping one another on the back, grinning toothily as if life simply didn't get any better. Behind them, sheet rain blasted against the picture window, blurring the outline of the lighted canal bridge I could see on the other side of the glass. I sighed, and gave it to him straight.

Listen, I said, I'm going to have to say no. I don't know how you found me and that's part of the problem. The other thing is you want this done tomorrow night and that's a concern for me. I like to look around a job before I get inside of it and you're not giving me the time I need.

The American laced his hands together on the table and tapped his thumbs against one another.

Say we double your fee?

It's funny, I told him, that just makes me more nervous. See, I have to think it's vital to you now, for whatever reason, that this thing is done tomorrow night. And the fact you'd pay me twenty thousand makes me think there's twice the risk I'd considered in the first place.

Risk is a part of it. So's the reward.

It's still a no.

The American grimaced, shook his head wearily. Then he reached inside the sleeve of his windbreaker and removed a square of paper. He hesitated for a moment, looking me in the eyes once more, before sliding the paper across to me.

Kid, I'm gonna take a chance. These here are the addresses. I want you to keep them. Say tomorrow night comes around and it gets to seven o'clock and you change your mind.

That's not going to happen.

And you're confident about that. But why don't we leave our-selves open to the possibility that you just might reconsider your attitude? This way, you have the details you need and everything's in your control. You make the decision.

I held his gaze, and, fool that I was, reached out and took the piece of paper.

That's right, kid, he told me. All I'm asking you to do is think about it.

TWO

And think about it I did, for most of that night and throughout the following day. I thought about it when I should have been proof reading the manuscript that was sat on my writing desk and I thought about it when I took my lunchtime stroll and then when I went out for a packet of cigarettes around three. And damn if I wasn't still thinking about it when I found myself stood opposite the window of Café de Brug at a quarter after seven later that night.

The American was in there alright, sat at the same table, and he had two men with him. The men were younger than the American and there was a European vibe about the way they dressed, though whether they were Dutch or not I couldn't tell without hearing them speak. They wore matching leather jackets and light denim trousers but physically they were complete opposites. The man with his back to me was heavy-set, with a thick neck and a shaved head whereas his friend was rail-thin, almost ill-looking, with a pinched quality about his face that made it look as if he'd sucked too hard on a cigarette and had forgotten to exhale. Were they the men who lived in the houseboat and the apartment in the Jordaan, and if they were, which was which? I had the thin man pegged as the boat owner, because I couldn't see him making it up and down five flights of stairs each day without a team of medics in support and a troop of cheerleaders up ahead, but the wide man didn't strike me as the type to have enough cash to live in the Jordaan. But then, why judge a book, you might say, because I sure as hell hoped I didn't look any-thing like a burglar.

Hand inside my pocket, I fingered the piece of paper with the two addresses written on it. For a moment, I had it in mind to run through the situation once again, to weigh up the pros and the cons that were confronting me, but really there was no point. I mean, who was I kidding, stood outside the café, pretending I had a decision to make? There was more chance of me turning down a midnight tumble with the blonde bartender than walking away from the job now. So I backed off from the window and crossed over the canal bridge and took a few turns this way and a few that, and before very long I found myself stepping down from the street and onto the painted metal deck of a grand old Dutch barge.

I guess that's something that might surprise some people - that most professional thieves tend to avoid breaking into a place in the middle of the night. Sure, there are less people around then, but if anybody does happen to spot you crouching before a locked door at three in the morning, well, they're going to be pretty suspicious. On the other hand, if you tackle that same lock at, say, half past seven in the evening, you risk being seen by more people but there's also a fair chance they won't be concerned about it. After all, burglars only operate after midnight, right?

As it turned out, this particular burglar didn't have to worry either way. For one thing, it was already dark and there was a raw bite to the wind that was keeping people inside their homes and off the streets but, more to the point, it took me longer to pull my micro screwdriver and set of picks from my pocket than it did to snap back the lazy old cylinder lock on the door to the barge.

I rapped on the door and waited long enough for somebody to answer before opening it fully. There were no stirrings or rumblings or, in fact, noises of any kind, which didn't come as a great surprise because the interior of the barge was in darkness and I knew (or at least thought I knew) that the owner was out for the evening chewing on minute steak. I knocked once more and when I was sure there was nobody at home, I stepped inside, locked the door behind me (for all the good that would do) and flicked on a light switch. I suppose some people might be surprised about that too, but it's just common sense - putting a main light on suggests you have a right to be some place whereas flashing a torch beam around a property is just another needless giveaway.

The interior was large and open-plan, a seventies mishmash of wall-to-wall wooden panelling painted yellow, with a shag-pile brown carpet and orange window curtains. I drew the few curtains that were still open and took a moment to look around. There wasn't a great deal of furniture, just a large bed at the bow end of the boat covered in twisted sheets and discarded clothes, a plastic kitchen table stacked with dirty plates and take-away food containers, and a threadbare couch with sinking cushions that faced a television that dated, at a guess, from the last time the room had been decorated. There was also a good deal of built-in storage around the edge of the room, some of it covered in plaid seating cushions, and a small cubicle that protruded from one wall where I assumed the bathroom was to be found.

I raised my hands and cracked my knuckles, like a concert pianist or, more accurately, a thief with mild arthritis. Then I flexed my fingers, waggling them in the air as if I was capable of tuning in to some cosmic presence and divining the hiding place of the safe. My fingers made a faint swishing noise as I did this because I was wearing disposable surgical gloves from a box I had at home which, in turn, I'd taken from the city hospital during a recent visit (for my arthritis, naturally). I was wearing the gloves out of habit - my fingerprints weren't on record anywhere outside of the UK and it was unlikely anyone would look for them here - but habit and routine were my friends, the surest way I knew of protecting myself against costly mistakes.

But I digress. The safe.

Finger waggling aside, the best way to find it was to conduct a reasoned, methodical search, beginning at the front of the boat and working my way along either side, port then starboard, checking each cupboard and cubby hole and cavity until I reached the bed-room area at the rear, assuming it took me that long. And this was the approach I would surely take, in just a moment, after I'd tried a few things first.

So now, if I were a safe, where would I be hiding? Antigua? Hmmm. The bathroom? No, not there. The kitchen? What kitchen? Above the bed? No sign of it. Behind the not-quite-straight picture of a field of tulips hanging on the wall above the couch? Ah, I thank you. Our boat owner, it would appear, was not afraid of the odd cliché or two.

Neither, sadly for me, was he a fan of the classic combination lock safe. Now this was a shame because I've spent more evenings than I'd care to remember with my ear pressed against the metal doors of one or two of the more common makes, listening for the tell-tale click of contact points on a drive cam dial, plotting the numbers these clicks correspond to onto graph paper and coming up with the sequence of digits necessary to open the once impregnable door. All that practice was wasted here, though, because the safe in front of me had an electronic lock. Ten digits in all, from zero through to nine, housed in a no-nonsense keypad. I could try listening for clicks, but it wouldn't do me any good, since an electronic lock doesn't make any noise. Or I could try every possible combi-nation for what might very well turn out to be the remainder of my time here on earth, though I was a little short on patience for that. No, an electronic lock was a difficult customer, alright, and I knew of only three ways around it.

The first, and the least appealing, was to torch the thing. You see, safes generally fall into two categories - they're either burglar-proof or fire-proof. Amazing as it may seem, it's rare to come across a domestic safe that does both jobs for the simple reason that it would make the safe very expensive. So while burglar-proof safes are designed and manufactured to resist attempts to break into them, they lack fire protection. Which is all well and good, but didn't help me very much, since I didn't have time to lay a controlled fire that could reach the kind of intense heats necessary to buckle the metal casing and, more to the point, taking that approach would likely transform the safe into an oven and cook the very item I was aiming to

Reviews for The Good Thief's Guide to Amsterdam

[auntie0nanuuq · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

He's likable, the other characters were not.....Charlie (a mystery writer & professional thief by night) is hired by another professional thief, Michael, to steal two plaster monkeys, that goes with the third which is already in his possession.When Michael is found beaten & left for dead in his apartment things become dangerous & interesting.....I figured out "who done it".... The story was a bit shallow (as was Charlie).....I much prefer Bock's, Bernie Rhodenbarr.... But Block has a lot more books featuring Bernie......

[5eva5 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Charlie Howard writes mystery novels for a living as well as a little burglary on the side. When a mysterious American hires Charlie to steal two seemingly worthless monkey figurines, Charlie is suspicious, but intrigued enough to accept, which leads to beatings and arrests and even murder. The plot is fairly generic and the Agatha Christie-finale is a bit formulaic, but I really enjoyed the characters and the setting and the premise has great potential, so I'll be giving the next installment a try. The audio, read by Simon Vance, is really good, but if you've heard Simon Vance, that won't come as a surprise.

[shazjhb · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Sweet but a bit too easy.

[stonelaura · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This debut novel is a pleasant enough crime caper told from the point of view of mystery writer Charlie Howard, who also just happens to be a thief himself. The plot involves a diamond heist and the recovery of three “wise monkey” figurines that, literally, hold the key to the recovery of the diamonds. The voice of the narrator, Charlie, is fairly zippy, with a bit of a smart-aleck tone, but it also feels a bit old-fashioned and predictable. The ending is very Christie-ish with all the suspects (and then some) gathered in one location as Charlie, reminiscent of Poiroit, reels off a long and complex outline of how the crime evolved. The reviews were good, (PW: starred review, “The ease with which Ewan creates a memorable protagonist and pits him against a plausible and tricky killer will be the envy of many more established authors. The detection is first-rate, and Howard is a fresh, irreverent creation who will make readers eager for his next exploit.” LJ: “His droll, funny, noirish style, cleverly drawn central character, and great descriptions of locale will make this a popular new series.”), but I found the resolution just OK after a pretty interesting start. At the end of the book Charlie ends up in Paris. Can you guess the name of the next book? There is some dope smoking (this is Amsterdam after all), a kissing scene but no sex described, and some brutality.

[vivienner_3 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The first of the Good Thief's Guide series introduces Charlie Howard as an author of mystery stories who appears to get his ideas from being a burglar. Charlie is quite appealing, one can almost forgive him for being a thief - presumably the source of the "good thief" epithet. In this case, he was approached by someone who asked him to steal three figurines of the wise monkey variety in connection with an old diamond heist. The plot became a little bogged down requiring a long denouement, but Charilie pulls it off and even throws in a surprise ending. This was an audiobook with excellent narration by Simon Vance.

[autumngirl70 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Listened to the audio version of this and loved it. The writing was really good as was the narration. Looking forward to the next in the series

[mrslee_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Charlie is engaged to find the three monkey figurines, "Hear no evil, See no evil and Speak no evil." The plot soon thickens and becomes convoluted, as it often does when Charlie is involved.SPOILERS:This was much better than the Paris book. I have to admit though, our "hero" was rather dense about the monkeys. First thing I would have done once I knew they weren't antiques is to smash them. Still, very amusing and some good bits of mystery involved. I always enjoy Simon Vance's narration of these stories.

[jmoncton_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Whenever I travel, I try to read a book before hand that has something to do with that locale. This summer I traveled to the Netherlands and picked 2 books to read - Amsterdam by Ian McEwan (great story but has almost nothing to do with Amsterdam) and The Good Thief's Guide to Amsterdam. This is the first of Chris Ewan's 'Good Thief' series which revolve around a mystery author, Charlie Howard, who happens to supplement his income with a bit of burglary on the side. Charlie is no ordinary burglar though. He is top of the line and the descriptions of how he cases a joint and then finally breaks in were fascinating. Also, the book is set in Amsterdam and some of the little details (like stealing a bike to get to his next rendezvous) were just perfect snapshots of the city. The best part was the performance by Simon Vance as Charlie Howard. Charlie is the perfect combination of competent and witty without being obnoxious and Simon performed this perfectly. Eager to listen to more books in this series.

[paradiseporch · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

(Fiction, Mystery, Series)The Good Thief series features Charlie Howard, master criminal, who accepts ‘challenges’ around the globe. This first in the series, my introduction to him, was excellent: the mystery well-paced and evenly-developed.I was exposed to enough tidbits about Amsterdam to get a flavour of that city and look forward to globe-trotting in the future with Charlie.4 stars

[toobusyreading · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The good thief did not seem especially good to me, nor especially adept at thievery.I like mysteries and I like series where I get to know the characters. This one fell flat for me on both fronts. The mystery was not especially engaging and the main character was not especially interesting or likable. I learned early on that he is both an author and a thief, but he never moved beyond a cardboard cutout for me. I thought perhaps I had missed an earlier book that gave him more depth, but no – this is the first. The references to “the wide man and the thin man” got tiresome.I listened to an unabridged audio edition, and the narrator, Simon Vance, was quite good.If this book appeals to you, don't let me put you off from reading or listening to it – most people do seem to enjoy it quite a bit. As for me, I'm not going to carry on with the series. It's not horrid, but I have better things to read.

[bookconcierge · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Charlie Howard is a successful mystery author, writing a series that features a professional burglar, Faulks. As a sideline he – and I guess you could call it research – he also occasionally accepts a commission to steal certain items. When a stranger offers him an unusually high fee to steal a couple of seemingly worthless monkey figurines, his instincts tell him to decline while his curiosity urges him to comply. Before long he’s embroiled in a major intrigue, and a suspect in a murder. This was a highly entertaining mystery. I couldn’t help but think of Lawrence Block’s Bernie Rhodenbarr series, but the comparison is a good one. The pace is quick, the characters interesting, and the charms of Amsterdam (a city I have visited) evident. I didn’t really like the way he revealed the culprit; bringing everyone together and having a long speech to lay out the crime and point out the responsible party (or parties) seems a bit tedious. Still, I was charmed by Charlie and want to read more of this series.

[meredy_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Six-word review: Lightweight mystery falls short of promise.Extended review: The first of Chris Ewan's "Good Thief" series introduces a great premise--that of a novelist who writes about an accomplished thief and happens to be one himself. This setup creates numerous intriguing possibilities, and the rascal as hero is, in general, pretty hard to resist. Countless Hollywood action flicks have made capital on that concept.I did find Charlie Howard appealing, and I enjoyed learning some of the tricks of a burglar's trade, assuming that the author has authentic knowledge from some source.As soon as the plaster monkeys showed up, however, my doubts arose. Conan Doyle may or may not have been the first to use the device, but it has certainly been seen many times in film and fiction since "The Six Napoleons" appeared in 1904. I kept hoping their function wouldn't be the obvious one, but no such luck.On the plus side, there is a jumbled but entertaining assortment of maybe-good-guys-maybe-bad-guys, and I didn't guess the ending. The truth about the culprit is surprising but plausible.On the minus side, the ending took a lot, really a lot, truly an awful lot of explaining. The showdown scene where everything is revealed went on and on, and after a while I lost track. A day after finishing the book, I couldn't tell you how all the pieces fit together and how the protagonist-narrator worked it out.I also expected, from the city name in the title and especially the "Guide to" in imitation of a traveler's handbook, that the setting would play a much bigger role. But not much of a feel for the locale comes through. Some narratives give you a real sense of place and some don't, and it's okay either way, but the emphasis in the title invites that expectation, and it isn't fulfilled.Another minus goes to Charlie's emotional distance. I never felt that he had much of an investment in the solution to the puzzle. It wasn't his problem. Wanting to profit by someone else's crime may work as a motivation, but it doesn't really engage the emotions of the reader; and the allure of an attractive young woman is no substitute for real feeling. It just doesn't seem like Charlie cares very much about anything that's going on (except when it comes to threats to his life and limb), and for that reason it's hard for me to care.As a light-duty page-turner, of course, it doesn't have to go very deep. For what it is, it was enjoyable enough.If only. And here comes the big minus for me, the deal-breaker, the peculiarity so tiresome that I'm ready to drop the series after only one try.It's not just that the book needs some editorial cleanup, although it does, especially in matters of punctuation. It's not even the author's sloppy misuse of words ("palette" for "palate," "grizzly" for "grisly," "teemed" for "teamed," and (shudder) "shammy" for "chamois"; or, if those don't get you, how about "right off" for "write-off"?) or laughably weird constructions like this, on page 231: "Then, just as I threw up my hands in disbelief and tossed my head back on my shoulders..." (where it had been, he doesn't say).No, it's what I must charitably assume is a regionalism or colloquialism, albeit one I've never run across before in nearly sixty years of reading, including the work of at least as many British authors as American; or perhaps it's a local or family eccentricity; in any case, it's a nonstandard usage that no editor ought to have let pass.The author uses "sit" and "stand" as transitive verbs when referring to a person's action--and hence uses them in the passive voice.What this means is that he doesn't treat sitting and standing as if they were something a person or object does, but rather, as if they were something that's done to a person or object: not "he sat" or "he was sitting" or even "he was seated" but "he was sat."• The monkey was sat on his haunches, knees up around his chest...• ...I should have been proof reading the manuscript that was sat on my desk...• One of them was sat on a wooden chair in a Lycra bikini...• It was just sat there, no use to anyone until the Baileys returned...• ...my hands were tied to the back of the plastic chair I was sat on...• Stuart was sat just to my side...• ...the thin man was sat with his hands clenched together between his legs...• ...he stood up from the crate he was sat on...• Outside of that doorway was a yard and in that yard was a taxi cab, with an anxious looking widow sat inside of it.• ...I was stood before a beer tap at a bar...• ...I found myself stood opposite the window of Cafe de Brug...• I mean, who was I kidding, stood outside the cafe, pretending I hade a decision to make?• First off was a crumpled photograph of two men stood in front of a muddy river...• A uniformed colleague was stood beside him and an unmarked police car was parked just behind.(And many more instances besides.)Yes, those words can be used that way with a particular intent: my mother sat me down (I was sat down) for a talking to; the coat was hung on a hook, and the umbrella was stood in the corner. But in standard speech and writing those verbs are active, not passive.And that quirk of usage is enough of an irritant that, all virtues notwithstanding, I don't care to spend any more time with this author.

[ecw0647 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Charlie Howard writes books about thieves and suspense. He's also a thief himself. Approached by a man who wants him to steal three monkey figurines of little apparent value, but the theft must occur in a certain time frame. Charlie decides, against his better judgment (the money's really good,) to take on the challenge. He recovers two of them only to discover he had competition, and that the American who hired him has been severely beaten and left for dead. Charlie is soon a suspect in the murder and the subject of a search by other bad guys, all of them looking for the three figurines that are somehow related to a diamond heist years before.

Charlie manages to figure it all out and, in a scene worthy of Nero Wolfe, brings together all the participants where he reveals the culprit.

Good series each in a different locale. What a deal, the author gets to flit around to all these neat cities as research for the next book and can probably claim the traveling expenses as a business deduction. I’m jealous.

[bookmagic_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was the first book I read in this series. I like the idea of a criminal who writes crime novels. I also like a likeable criminal. The plot is a bit convoluted and I'm not sure all the ends got tied up, but it was nice for a light read. I won't run to read others in the series but if I'm in the right mood, sure, why not.

[seriousgrace · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Charles Howard is a suspense writer visiting Amsterdam for inspiration to the ending of his latest crime-thief thriller. He shouldn't ever get writers' block because he happens to be one of the very thieves he writes about in his "fiction." As a petty thief he steals things just because he can. In addition, the thefts stave off boredom and supplement his writing career. One of his sidekicks is his literary agent, Victoria, who he has never met. He tells he everything about his thieving escapades. This time word has gotten around - he's a good a thief as they come - and he is approached by an American willing to pay him to steal the matching plaster monkey figurines to his "See No Evil." The figures are cheap and the job seems to simple. Howard rightly thinks there has to be a catch and of course, there is. After successfully stealing "Hear No Evil" and "Speak No Evil" all hell breaks loose when the American is murdered and his death is pinned on Howard.Chris Ewan's writing is fun and furious. It's easy to read 100 pages in a single lunch break without looking up once. His Charles Howard character is entertaining with just the right amount of cheeky sarcasm contrasted with humble likeability. Like other reviewers I enjoyed his sly and flirty relationship with his literary editor. Of course the ending is wrapped in a "Who Dunnit" ending with a neat little bow, but because Ewan kept many details out this play by play was almost necessary to make the ending complete.

[2happy_camper2 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A fun read overall, with an interesting plot and fairly likeable main character. I thought the writing (or editing!) was a bit rough in places, though.

[fmrox · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Professional thief, Charlie Howard, is asked to steal two monkey figurines one night in Amsterdam. Unwilling, he takes the case. But once he steals them the requester is found beaten near death and Charlie moves to the top of the suspect list. And, what's so special about these figurines that someone would attempt murder for them?This is first in the Good Thief Guide series. It's a good beginning to a series. The plot is well developed and the main character is well enough developed that he is also a writer. There is a small amount of background about Charlie that can be fleshed out later. Some supporting characters make enough of a debut to return later, his publisher, a fellow thief/fence, a romantic interest, etc. It's light and funny and not too complicated.

[marywj · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

a reasonably good book - but the Burglar Who series with Bernie Rhodenbarr by Lawrence Block does it better

[luluparis1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Loved this book! Very edgy writing style. A really enjoyable read. Not your usual mystery at all.

[angiebrooke · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a story about Charlie Howard, a writer of novels about a thief. And in reality Charlie is a thief as well. In this book, Charlie finds himself in Amsterdam trying to finish his most recent novel. He gets caught up in the midst of a killing and a robbery. I really enjoyed the twists and turns of the story and the way the author builds on each of the characters. Looking forward to reading another Charlie Howard caper soon.

[kimaoverstreet · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

In Amsterdam, Charlie Howard, a British mystery writer who moonlights as a thief, is asked by an American to steal two small plaster monkey figurines from his associates. When he does, all chaos ensues, and Charlie is caught up in a big mystery.A good light read, at times I laughed out loud at Charlie's dry wit. Charlie is a fascinating hero, and the story contains some interesting tidbits about how thieves work. The mystery itself leaves something to be desired; it doesn't really come together smoothly so a reader can watch the process. I will read the second book in the series if I'm out of other reading material, but don't feel complelled to pick it up immediately as I do in my favorite mystery series.

[rbtanger · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I found the main character more interesting than the mystery. The writing was amusing and the main character is extremely funny on occasion. My main criticism was that the ending is a little bit convoluted as well as predictable (isn't that a combination!) and I found the "Rich People Are Evil Incarnate" theme to be a little tiresome. But on the whole it was an entertaining read. The author captures the feel of Amsterdam perfectly and gives his secondary characters more than a cursory, "amalgamated European" spin. I look forward to reading the next installment to see if the author's plotting ability has gotten a little tighter.

[alevtina_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I'm not a particular fan of mystery novels. (It's not that I have anything against them -- I just prefer other genres of literature.) However, I enjoyed reading about Charlie Howard's adventures in Amsterdam. It was a very quick but enjoyable read. It was interesting to see everything unfold and then get neatly tied back together at the end. Despite the blood and violence, it's a lighthearted story that can be enjoyed by just about anyone -- especially someone on his/her way to work on the bus/subway.

[devenish_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the first novel in what I presume will be a series of 'Good Thief's Guides to ....(various cities)' Quite a good concept I think. They are about Charlie Howard,the thief of the title,who also writes novels about a thief !In this story he is approached by someone who gets him to steal two figurines of a set of three wise monkeys.(see no evil,hear no evil and speak no evil) This he does with little trouble,as he is an expert in what he does. Strange as it might seem,these little monkey figures appear to be virtually worthless. Meanwhile several sets of people seem very interested in acquiring them,some with extremely violent methods of going about the job. With the discovery of a badly beaten and tortured body the Amsterdam police arrest Charlie,who is thus in deep trouble from both sides of the law.To add to his troubles,Charlie is unable to complete his latest book. It never rains but it pours doesn't it.

[petry_2 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very well written, intricate plot and all the Dutch names and locations on the spot, without the strange names you almost always see in non-dutch writers.

[smcclelland_8 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I thought it was fun and fast moving. I liked the characters and look forward to more novels.

[maiadeb · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Interesting. Learned a bit about Amsterdam and the writing process. Not a favorite by any means