4 stars out of 5
This complex, intriguing story spans more than 20 years - from the time eight young children are rescued from certain death in a barn fire deliberately set by the leader of a cult to which their parents belonged to the present, when death once again stalks the survivors. Now, one of them - an artist whose work is in an art gallery owned by another of the survivors - commits suicide. Virginia Troy, the gallery owner, suspects the death was murder; to test that theory, she hires the private investigation firm owned by Anson Salinas, a former police officer and the man who rescued the children all those years ago.
Back then, Anson adopted three of the surviving boys; one of them, Cabot Sutter (also a former cop), now works with his adopted father. Early on, Cabot and Virginia take a closer look at a few of the victim's paintings that depict the cult fire; they suggest that sociopathic leader Quinton Zane, who reportedly was killed in a boating accident years earlier, may in fact be among the living. Still other clues from the paintings suggest that the cult held many more secrets - one of which is that cult members may have embezzled a substantial amount of money right under the leader's nose.
Apparently, those secrets aren't so secret anymore - and bodies of those who may have learned the truth are starting to pile up. Can Cabot and Virginia (who, surprise, surprise, have taken a strong liking to each other) get to the bottom of things before they themselves become victims? It's a race to the finish, with plenty of action and surprises right up to the end.
Speaking of which, it makes sense to me that this book deserves at least one follow-up. If and when that happens, I hope the publisher will once again grant me the honor of reading an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. Very enjoyable!
Promise Not to Tell by Jayne Ann Krentz (Berkley, January 2018); 336 pp.)
4 stars out of 5
No doubt about it: Government-sanctioned assassins Will Robie and Jessica Reel have never fail to get the job done, even when it comes at great personal cost and a smattering of collateral damage. This time, though, their efforts border on overkill (pun intended).
Will and Jessica are returning to action after separate assignments that left them physically and mentally devastated. They've healed as much as humanly possible, but Jessica's mind is still reeling (another pun intended) - leaving in limbo the "connection" they formed during a previous joint venture. They haven't seen each other for six months, but now they get called in to solve a surprising problem: Their elderly and much revered handler, known as Blue Man, went missing while on a fishing vacation in backwoods Colorado, where he grew up.
Their reunion is more or less amicable, but Will and Jessica are of the same mind when it comes to their mission - find Blue Man at any cost, including their own lives should it come to that. Needless to say, as they bump up against infestations of skinheads, neo-Nazis and other undesirables in this godforsaken territory, there's a good probability that's exactly how it will end. Throw in a few abandoned government bunkers and silos and it closes in on a sure bet.
But there's a bit of a problem, as I see it, is in the execution - and I mean that as a double entendre. Murders, quite a few execution-style, result in bodies piling up faster than pitchfork-flung hay in a mow (some of them deservedly so, others not). From a writing standpoint, the execution rather quickly dives into - and stays in - the realm of "you've got to be kidding." That Will and Jessica possess near super-human capabilities both individually and as a team is de rigueur in this series, but what they accomplish here stretches imagination beyond the limit, at least for me. But then again, in the end all's right with the world - except for a few issues that no doubt will carry over to the next book.
All things considered, if you're looking for serious kick-assction (I made that one up to avoid getting censored, so hopefully you get my drift), it would be tough to beat this book. And for sure, I'll be in line to get the next installment.
End Game by David Baldacci (Grand Central Publishing, November 2017); 416 pp.
3 stars out of 5
I've read and for the most part enjoyed almost all of the "Private" series (this is the 13th), but this one was a bit of a disappointment. Release of the book in November 2017 also raised a question: Earlier this year, I learned of upcoming publication of a book titled Private Delhi. I put it on my must-get list, but the release date came and went and I was never able to get my hands on it. When I saw this one, a "Private" set in Delhi with the same co-author, I wondered why there were two.
Apparently, I wasn't wrong about an original version. I found it listed on Amazon with a totally different cover, a different publisher, just eight customer reviews and available only through third-party sellers. I don't know what happened, but I'd have to guess there were serious issues that resulted in rewriting and reissuing. Curious!
As for this installment, I'm honestly not sure why it didn't quite measure up (especially when I'm assuming a rewrite was done to make improvements). For one thing, though, I admit it was hard to keep all the names straight. Because I always review books I read, I keep notes on the main characters - and thank goodness for that, because it's the only thing that kept me at least somewhat on track here. The story, too, was a bit hard to follow, with two different investigations going on which - when coupled with the confusing names - more than a few times left me lost and backtracking pages to see what I'd missed.
The "star" of this one isn't Jack Morgan, founder of the global investigation agency; rather, it's Santosh Wagh, whom Jack installed as head of the new office in Delhi, and his assistant Nisha Gandhe. Shortly after the opening, a bunch of human remains that are in various stages of being dissolved is unearthed. It seems the Delhi powers-that-be may be trying to cover the whole thing up, and Jack gets called in by another government official (an enemy of the aforementioned powers) to learn why the incident is being withheld from the press. After passing the baton to Santosh, Jack turns to other tasks and makes only the occasional reappearance.
Meanwhile, other mutilated bodies are turning up right and left (there's no shortage of blood and gore here, BTW), and questions arise as to whether they're connected to the original bodies or the work of a serial killer. As all this plays out, more questions crop up along the who-can-you-trust lines, further complicating Private's ongoing investigation. Everything comes together at the end, but not without serious disruptions in the (ahem!) private lives of Santosh and Nisha.
All things considered, it's not an awful book - but if you're a newbie to this series, I suggest that you start elsewhere.
Count to Ten by James Patterson and Ashwin Sanghi (Grand Central Publishing, November 2017); 416 pp.
2 stars out of 5
When I opened this book, the 24th in the series featuring offbeat bounty hunter Stephanie Plum, it was not without a bit of trepidation. The previous installment, Turbo Twenty-Three, was so lackluster that I gave it just 3 stars (and grudgingly at that). Aside from the same old, same old characters who just can't seem to grow up, the story itself was borderline silly.
But alas, my hope of improvement just wasn't to be. Not only is Stephanie still trying to decide whose bed she prefers - that of her supposedly main squeeze, detective Joe Morelli, and studly security consultant Ranger - she adds yet another irresistable guy to her wishy washy list with the return of Diesel (a character who's made appearances in other books).
That she remains fixated on getting laid (or not) is bothersome, but in previous books the one-liners have pulled me out of my funk sufficiently to say that for the most part, I enjoyed them. Not so here; as I said to myself a few chapters into it, I guess in one sense I'm happy that at my advanced age I'm still able to chuckle at seventh-grade bathroom humor. But what's in here kicks the level down to the kindergarten level (and really, isn't this supposed to be a book for grown-ups)?
As for the plot, silly doesn't begin to cover it. From tracking down an errant boa constrictor to exploding groundhogs to zombies who steal brains from the living and the dead (yeah, you read that right), the whole thing quickly goes from bad to worse and stays that way. A mix of cucumbers and cat pee wards off zombies is supposed to be funny? Only Stephanie's rotund work buddy, Lulu (who, we're told more than once, is fond of wearing skirts that barely cover her hoo-hah with a purple thong underneath), would come up with that one.
If there's a saving grace humor-wise - and honestly, even it falls short - it comes from the antics of Stephanie's funeral-loving Grandma Mazur, who lives with Stephanie's parents and has found a new man online she's determined to go visit. She, and Stephanie's long-suffering mother, manage to provide a few real chuckles in an otherwise hopeless mess of a story.
My conclusion? Whichever of the guys - Morelli, Diesel or Ranger - ends up with Stephanie deserves what he gets, and I really don't care to who gets the spoils. Stick a fork in me: I'm done.
Hardcore Twenty-Four by Janet Evanovich (G.P. Putnam's Sons, Novembeer 2017); 304 pp.
4 stars out of 5
Every once in a while, I do enjoy kicking back with a cozy mystery; there's usually a decent story with enough action to keep me interested while leaving my fingernails intact. The only downside, for me, is that the main character too often is borderline silly - never listening to anyone while she (it's almost always a female) sticks her nose into everybody's business and whines when something she says or does goes wrong. Thankfully, that isn't the case with former New York assistant District Attorney Irene Seligman. She's quite intelligent, sensible and capable of dealing with situations and people.
Except, that is, her mother Adelle; a more truly obnoxious character I haven't come across in a long time and will be content never to see again. She goes miles beyond the quintessential Jewish mother - and to the very end it remains a mystery to me why Irene agreed to leave her big city career and come home to Sante Fe, New Mexico, to "take care of" her. Oy!
But come home Irene did, and now she's operating a consignment shop selling high-end discards, many courtesy of Adelle's snooty friends. The store, called Irene's Closet, is in the historic Native American part of the city; and it is in this arena that much of the story takes root. Local jewelry-maker Juanita Calabaza is beside herself trying to locate her missing son Danny, who's one misstep away from gang life and drug addiction. Juanita fears that Danny stole a sacred tribal necklace, then sold it to a shady French artifacts dealer to finance his drug habit. She'd be happy to see the guy dead, she says - and prophetically, that's exactly what happens. Now she's in the crosshairs of the police, who consider Juanita their No. 1 suspect.
Irene, though, believes otherwise; no way her friend Juanita murdered anyone - her only goal is to find her son before he, too, turns up in the morgue. Meantime (while trying to placate her mother's constant demands - Lordy, what a pain she is), Irene's "friend" P.J. Bailey, a successful criminal lawyer gets into the act because he represents clients who insist they were ripped off by the French guy. I suspect Irene and P.J. are supposed to be in the throes of romantic tension, but I must say nothing either of them said or did made me believe there's any hope whatsoever for any such liaison. P.J. is far more likable than Adelle (but then so are at least half the people in the entire world), but still, I'd never allow his shoes anywhere near the underside of my bed.
There are plenty of false starts, chases and starts as well as very interesting information about local Native American history and customs. Since this is one of a series, I don't think I'll spoil anything by saying that Irene remains relatively unscathed at the end - ready, no doubt, for another adventure. I'm up for it as well - and I thank the publisher, via NetGalley, for the opportunity to read and review this one.
Accessories to Die For by Paula Paul (Random House LLC, December 2017); 180 pp.
5 stars out of 5
"O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!"
-- Sir Walter Scott
I lost count of the times that quote popped into my head as I followed the adventures (and misadventures) of law school students Todd, Mark and Zola. Just one semester away from graduation at the Foggy Bottom Law School in Washington, D.C., the friends realize their school is mostly a sham and they're hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loan debt with no hope of getting meaningful employment even if they pass the bar exam (which, not insignificantly, most graduates fail to do).
On top of that, Zola's parents, who have been in the United States as productive, but illegal, residents for nearly a quarter of a century, are in danger of being summarily rounded up and kicked back to their native Senegal. It's a bleak outlook all around, to say the least. But then comes the discovery that their for-profit diploma is one of several owned by a filthy rich guy who also owns a bank that hustles student loans. So as they gather 'round a table at the neighborhood Rooster Bar, a plan starts to hatch - one that begins with dropping out of school.
In a very real sense, though, their plan is nothing to crow about. From the start - with the tactics they'll take to earn money to live on - virtually everything they do is illegal and could land them in jail if they're caught. It's also a seat-of-the-pants operation; as one door closes, they're forced to find another one that opens - and so it continues until the end, when everything that goes around, comes around. How they pull everything off admittedly tests the limits of credibiity here and there, but it also provides a wild but enjoyable romp for readers as well as a chance for the author to put the spotlight on injustices (as he sees them) in the student loan industry and immigration policies. Kudos for another one well done!
The Rooster Bar by John Grisham (Doubleday, October 2017); 368 pp.
5 stars out of 5
I've never panned for gold, but I can imagine my delight at finding a nugget or two amid the rocks. Similarly, given the substantial number of books I read each year - some wonderful and some not so much - it's a treat to find a gem like this one.
The story is, if I may borrow the title of another novel and motion picture, an anatomy of a murder; after all, readers know from the start that the title character isn't new to the game ("Evelyn's first murder was an accident," the description reads). That at least one more follows, then, comes as no big surprise.
Discovering the who and why is what kept me reading almost nonstop (which didn't take long; at 185 pages, the book is closer to a short story than a novel). It's well thought out, riveting and reminiscent, at least to me, of Hemingway's "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber." And that's a good thing.
Evelyn Marsh can lay claim to being a "normal" housewife; at age 49, she's been in a somewhat boring but comfortable marriage for 25 years. Now that their two children are grown and out of the house, she's looking into selling the artwork she's been giving away all those years - encouraged by friends and family (except perhaps for her successful lawyer-husband, who's content to have a stay-at-home wife with a nice hobby).
What follows is a story of betrayal and awakening of inner emotions that most likely lie within all of us. Are we all capable of following a course of action as Evelyn did? Probably. Would we? Probably not - at least I'm pretty sure I wouldn't. But on the other hand, I'm willing to concede that anything is possible.
Just because I know folks who would be upset by sexually graphic language, I'm compelled to note that there's a little of that in here. As one who's way too old not to have heard those words before, I'll call this one a winner and thank the author for sending me a copy to review.
Evelyn Marsh by S.W. Clemens (Kindle Press, March 2017); 185 pp.
4 stars out of 5
