In the theater, reality and make-believe blend so intimately that Tim Briscoe was convinced that he was playing the role of detective when he stumbled upon the lifeless form of Nellie Brant. But the corpse was real, even though everything and everybody else seemed fictitious.

There was the elusive man who wore dark glasses, the actress who chose sudden death as the background for an audition, the ex-silent-film star who stooged on quiz shows for his daily bottle, and Maggie, who loved him but didn't believe in the effect of too many Scotches.

This backstage mystery was written by a man who knew the theatrical world inside out. The characters and scenes are as authentic as Variety, as real as a closing notice.

"This is a personal matter. Someone killed my brother. I don't like that. If the police can't take care of it, then I'll bury my own dead."

Nick English meant every word, but his efforts to find his brother's killer started a chain reaction of murder and violence that would nearly end his own life.

Here is a story of organized blackmail punctuated by sudden and gruesome murder. Written with the punch and speed of a rivet gun, I'll Bury My Dead confirms James Hadley Chase's reputation as a leading writer of all-action, edge-of-your-seat thrillers that demand to be read in a single sitting.

From the moment Dale's headlights hit the nyloned legs of lovely Julia Casson on that old Connecticut highway, trouble moved right in on him--and stayed there.

Gunmen, straight coppers and crooked coppers, luscious bedtime lovelies and the fabulous mystery of the Task Force dagger deaths...Bogard cracks his way through it all to the most breathless showdown ever.

She's a smooth blonde with enough real glamour not to need makeup--especially when she's in tight white satin. She's honest and sort of naive, but she knows how to get a man or get rid of a wolf.

She's a cigarette girl in a spot just off Chicago's loop, but she's about to start really going places. As she goes, she collects an Indian raja, an amorous sheikh and a mysterious gentleman reputed to be the Rockefeller of Burma. These gents are after something, chasing the gal around the world to get it, and it ain't hay. That's where her butterflies come in--they flutter hard, warning her when she's scared or propositioned, and they're working overtime. Effectively?--read the book and find out.

Veda Rux, a beautiful blonde, known professionally as a stripper, steals a priceless Cellini dagger from the safe in millionaire Lindsay Brett's home. Her agent, Cornelius Gorman, approaches Floyd Jackson, a private investigator and first-rate blackmailer, and asks him to return the dagger before the theft is discovered.

Jackson should have known there was something wrong with the whole situation, but, blinded by the beauty of Veda and more money than he had ever seen, he agreed to the proposition.

From the moment he fell in love with Veda, his doom was sealed--he was caught up in a relentless intrigue that made him a cat's-paw for murder.

When a thoroughly "nice" girl is clever as well, let her less strongly armed sisters beware.

Phyllis Gordon was completely honest and very intelligent. Terry McLean was her first and only lover, and he really loved her. But Phyllis cared too much for him to marry him until she had rid herself of her unrequited passion for her millionaire employer, Kenyon Rutledge. Kenyon's fiancee, Letty Lawrence, was also well equipped with beauty and brains, and she had money besides.

Yet the arrival in town of Phyllis's little country cousin, Anice Mayhew, spelled danger for both Phyllis and Letty. For Anice was dewy-eyed, supersweet and diabolically innocent.