Excerpt from The Marauders by Tom Cooper, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

One afternoon, about two weeks into his community service, Cosgrove finally caught glimpse of the widow. In a rose-colored terrycloth robe hanging askew from her bony shoulders she watched him querulously through the kitchen window, her snowy hair as bed-headed as a child's.

Cosgrove, digging up a dead rosebush, leaned against his shovel. Raised his hand, half smiled.

The window blind dropped as swiftly as a guillotine blade. That afternoon as they took a break Hanson asked Cosgrove if he knew why they were fixing the old widow's place.

Cosgrove grunted, didn't give a shit.

"Lady's going to die any day now and she owes county taxes all the way back to 1982," Hanson said. He took off his cap, stroked his ponytail. "Soon as she kicks it, state's taking everything. Down to the lightbulbs and hinges and every aspect."

"So?"

"So? So, her family comes from French pirates. Lafitte. Exiles from the Caribbean. Been here all the way back. Practically invented crime in this city. Practically invented fuckin'."

Sitting on the porch step chewing on a tuna fish sandwich, Cosgrove wondered if there was a moment in the day when shit wasn't flying out of Hanson's mouth. He stuffed the remaining half of his sandwich back into the brown paper sack and asked Hanson how he knew all of this.

"Did a little snooping around," Hanson said. "Came out here on my day off with a tie on and knocked on some neighbors' doors. Told them I was from the Census Bureau. This old lady, turns out she's a real piece of shit. Always starting hell with the neighbors. Kicking them off her lawn during Mardi Gras. Every goddamn aspect."

Cosgrove wondered what kind of person would believe this man had anything to do with the Census Bureau. Someone blind and deaf, he suspected. Someone crazy. Someone brain-damaged.

But he was intrigued despite himself. "I don't see how it should make one bit of difference to us."

Hanson smiled, crooked but clean teeth. "You seem like a man who can keep a secret," he said.

"You know nothing about me."

"I know enough. You're not a rat. You've seen me fucking around here all day and haven't said anything to Lemon. That counts for something in my book. Money, I'm guessing you don't have much. Otherwise a lawyer with a state school diploma would've gotten you off."

"That's a whole lot of assuming."

"Am I wrong?"

"What're you on about?"

"Okay, what am I on about. The old lady, I bet she's got some treasure in that house."

Excerpted from The Marauders by Tom Cooper. Copyright © 2015 by Tom Cooper. Excerpted by permission of Crown. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.