David Schwinghammer's Blog - Posts Tagged "serial-killers"
THE ABSENCE OF MERCY
THE ABSENCE OF MERCY is a serial killer mystery, for the most part, with a tinge of psychological thriller and Robin Cook medical effects thrown in for good measure.
As an inveterate mystery lover and writer, I know about mystery conventions, and I was looking for the “plant” early on. The plant is when the author shows the real killer early on, if only briefly. It’s not fair to spring an entirely new character on the reader at the last minute. An author also does that with a knife or a baseball bat that saves the main character's life. We should be saying, “Yeah, I remember he had that thing in his sock drawer.” I couldn’t find the plant. It’s usually the character you least expect.
In John Burley’s book, someone is killing teenagers and pre-adolescents. Dr. Ben Stevenson is the county coroner in this small Ohio town, and he’s the main character.
Burley seems to be worried we won’t believe Stevenson is really doing an autopsy of a murder victim. As a result, we are treated to a deluge of medical terminology. Hey, if “Ducky” from NCIS doesn’t do that to us, Burley doesn’t have to either. Actually he does it twice, and it’s extensive.
Burley talks a lot about sociopaths, how they don’t have human feelings etc., but it seems to me that the perpetrator is more of a psychopath if the damage he does to his victims is any indication. Sociopaths seem to be quite common, and they don’t have to be homicidal. About half of my bosses were sociopaths. This killer reminds me of Ted Bundy.
I also hated the ending. It leaves everybody in the lurch. And we’re not sure exactly what’s happening at the end. Some writers do that to let the reader write his own ending, so to speak, but there’s really only one possibility here, and it’s too depressing to think about.
Despite the above, I’m tempted to give this novel five stars because of the visceral effect it had on me as a reader. It was rather like watching LOOKING FOR MR. GOODBAR, which bothered me for at least a week. But I really dislike novels that don’t provide resolution, especially one like this that involves a family and one of our most respected professionals, so I have to take away that extra star. Sorry, Burley, old chap.
As an inveterate mystery lover and writer, I know about mystery conventions, and I was looking for the “plant” early on. The plant is when the author shows the real killer early on, if only briefly. It’s not fair to spring an entirely new character on the reader at the last minute. An author also does that with a knife or a baseball bat that saves the main character's life. We should be saying, “Yeah, I remember he had that thing in his sock drawer.” I couldn’t find the plant. It’s usually the character you least expect.
In John Burley’s book, someone is killing teenagers and pre-adolescents. Dr. Ben Stevenson is the county coroner in this small Ohio town, and he’s the main character.
Burley seems to be worried we won’t believe Stevenson is really doing an autopsy of a murder victim. As a result, we are treated to a deluge of medical terminology. Hey, if “Ducky” from NCIS doesn’t do that to us, Burley doesn’t have to either. Actually he does it twice, and it’s extensive.
Burley talks a lot about sociopaths, how they don’t have human feelings etc., but it seems to me that the perpetrator is more of a psychopath if the damage he does to his victims is any indication. Sociopaths seem to be quite common, and they don’t have to be homicidal. About half of my bosses were sociopaths. This killer reminds me of Ted Bundy.
I also hated the ending. It leaves everybody in the lurch. And we’re not sure exactly what’s happening at the end. Some writers do that to let the reader write his own ending, so to speak, but there’s really only one possibility here, and it’s too depressing to think about.
Despite the above, I’m tempted to give this novel five stars because of the visceral effect it had on me as a reader. It was rather like watching LOOKING FOR MR. GOODBAR, which bothered me for at least a week. But I really dislike novels that don’t provide resolution, especially one like this that involves a family and one of our most respected professionals, so I have to take away that extra star. Sorry, Burley, old chap.
ZODIAC
Robert Graysmith is no Vincent Bugliosi, but he does know more about the Zodiac killings than anybody else on the planet. The detail about each of the five known killings is incredible, and Graysmith unearths another killing that occurred in Riverside prior to the Zodiac killings that may have been committed by the same person. And he does come up with a likely suspect.
Prior to reading ZODIAC, I rented the David Fincher movie. I was expecting the movie to follow the book pretty closely, but there are some composite characters in the movie. Graysmith tells us about three main suspects; whereas, there were only two in the movie. Graysmith also speculates (pretty much believes) that Zodiac went right on killing after the murder of cab driver Paul Lee Stine. He lists 41 possible Zodiac murders, the last one occurring in 1981. Graysmith also had access to the Zodiac letters in which the murderer claimed credit for many more murders than those generally attributed to him.
Graysmith has some annoying habits. For one thing, he describes every stitch of clothing one of the early murder victims is wearing. He's also awfully skittish about using real names. So many people are given pseudonyms this might as well be fiction. Later on he goes into elaborate detail about the phases of the moon, and how the Zodiac could have been planning his murderers to correspond with them. Then there's the sycophantic description of Filcher's movie as an addendum to the book. Here's Graysmith's description of Filcher's attention to detail: "His eye is calculating, more precise than any mechanical optics."
Something else that I find puzzling was the police's inability to keep track of two of the victims who lived through Zodiac attacks, Mike Mageau and Kathleen Johns. Kathleen got a really good look at him. I would have liked to see a "where are they now" epilogue concerning some of the major characters. Mageau is barely mentioned, strange since he supposedly identified the man who tried to kill him. I would imagine that's covered in ZODIAC UNMASKED, the follow-up.
Prior to reading ZODIAC, I rented the David Fincher movie. I was expecting the movie to follow the book pretty closely, but there are some composite characters in the movie. Graysmith tells us about three main suspects; whereas, there were only two in the movie. Graysmith also speculates (pretty much believes) that Zodiac went right on killing after the murder of cab driver Paul Lee Stine. He lists 41 possible Zodiac murders, the last one occurring in 1981. Graysmith also had access to the Zodiac letters in which the murderer claimed credit for many more murders than those generally attributed to him.
Graysmith has some annoying habits. For one thing, he describes every stitch of clothing one of the early murder victims is wearing. He's also awfully skittish about using real names. So many people are given pseudonyms this might as well be fiction. Later on he goes into elaborate detail about the phases of the moon, and how the Zodiac could have been planning his murderers to correspond with them. Then there's the sycophantic description of Filcher's movie as an addendum to the book. Here's Graysmith's description of Filcher's attention to detail: "His eye is calculating, more precise than any mechanical optics."
Something else that I find puzzling was the police's inability to keep track of two of the victims who lived through Zodiac attacks, Mike Mageau and Kathleen Johns. Kathleen got a really good look at him. I would have liked to see a "where are they now" epilogue concerning some of the major characters. Mageau is barely mentioned, strange since he supposedly identified the man who tried to kill him. I would imagine that's covered in ZODIAC UNMASKED, the follow-up.
The Skin Collector
Jeffery Deaver’s Lincoln Rhyme series has been a favorite of mine since the BONE COLLECTOR. And now he’s back with another collector, this time the SKIN COLLECTOR, seemingly about a tattoo artist who poisons people.
When Deaver includes a seemingly innocuous scene about the Watchmaker‘s funeral, you should pay particular attention. Lincoln sends his worthy enemy flowers, but of course he doesn’t trust him, so he sends Ron Pulaski to see who shows up. The Watchmaker’s lawyer does, and he files a harassment complaint. This plot thread then disappears, so you should smell a rat.
The main plot involves a tattooist named Billy Haven who seems to be sending Lincoln and crew a message. His first victim’s stomach is etched with the words “the second”. There’s no evidence of rape or any other motive involved. When Lincoln discovers a book with a chapter on the Bone Collector, mentioning Lincoln himself, he naturally assumes he’s dealing with a serial killer. Like John Sanford, Deaver gives us occasional glimpses of Haven’s machinations; hence we know his name. He also hints at what’s to come.
This is a masterful book in respect to what Lincoln, Sachs and the others can do with trace evidence. For instance they find bits of marble which lead them to a hospital addition, just in time to foil another murder. But the killer gets away and kills again, and we are given several other numbers for Lincoln to figure out.
We also learn lots of arcane information about the art of tattooing and what it means to various people who get them, thanks to two “experts” Lincoln brings in to discuss what’s going on. This guy is good, they say; he does things in minutes that would take others at least an hour.
Meanwhile the killer tattooist makes several attempts on the lives of the team, Rhyme and Sachs included. We know this won’t work, but Lon Sellitto does take a hit. There's also a sub plot involving Sachs' foster daughter Pam that also means more than it seems at first.
Okay, my gripe with this book is that it’s overcooked. Nothing is as it seems. All of a sudden we get one of Deaver’s patented wild twists, and we’ve got an entirely different plot, and then it changes again. At the end Lincoln is reveling in some new trace evidence he’s found, involving the last of the twists. In other words, what we have here is a cliffhanger. I personally despise cliffhangers; if this wasn’t the Rhyme series, I wouldn’t read the next book.
When Deaver includes a seemingly innocuous scene about the Watchmaker‘s funeral, you should pay particular attention. Lincoln sends his worthy enemy flowers, but of course he doesn’t trust him, so he sends Ron Pulaski to see who shows up. The Watchmaker’s lawyer does, and he files a harassment complaint. This plot thread then disappears, so you should smell a rat.
The main plot involves a tattooist named Billy Haven who seems to be sending Lincoln and crew a message. His first victim’s stomach is etched with the words “the second”. There’s no evidence of rape or any other motive involved. When Lincoln discovers a book with a chapter on the Bone Collector, mentioning Lincoln himself, he naturally assumes he’s dealing with a serial killer. Like John Sanford, Deaver gives us occasional glimpses of Haven’s machinations; hence we know his name. He also hints at what’s to come.
This is a masterful book in respect to what Lincoln, Sachs and the others can do with trace evidence. For instance they find bits of marble which lead them to a hospital addition, just in time to foil another murder. But the killer gets away and kills again, and we are given several other numbers for Lincoln to figure out.
We also learn lots of arcane information about the art of tattooing and what it means to various people who get them, thanks to two “experts” Lincoln brings in to discuss what’s going on. This guy is good, they say; he does things in minutes that would take others at least an hour.
Meanwhile the killer tattooist makes several attempts on the lives of the team, Rhyme and Sachs included. We know this won’t work, but Lon Sellitto does take a hit. There's also a sub plot involving Sachs' foster daughter Pam that also means more than it seems at first.
Okay, my gripe with this book is that it’s overcooked. Nothing is as it seems. All of a sudden we get one of Deaver’s patented wild twists, and we’ve got an entirely different plot, and then it changes again. At the end Lincoln is reveling in some new trace evidence he’s found, involving the last of the twists. In other words, what we have here is a cliffhanger. I personally despise cliffhangers; if this wasn’t the Rhyme series, I wouldn’t read the next book.
Empire of Sin
EMPIRE OF SIN is about New Orleans, but it’s divided into three segments. Gary Krist, that author, starts with a hook, the murders or near murders of grocery store owners in the Italian part of town, thought to have been committed by The Black Hand.
The second aspect of the book deals with Storyville. The mayor, council members, and businessmen were worried that the city had a bad reputation as a crime-ridden Babylon. They were willing to look the other way while prostitution houses, gambling, and what they considered sin went about its business, but they wanted to segregate it to one part of town, and that was Storyville. Krist centers on two vice lords, Tom Anderson and Josie Arlington. Arlington was a madam; Anderson ran several dance halls, with a hand in prostitution etc, ran an oil company on the side, and was a Congressman for almost the entire twenty years Storyville existed.
The third area Krist concentrates on is jazz music which evolved in the prostitution houses and dance halls of storyville. I was surprised to find that one man was given credit for the origination of the music. Buddy Bolden played with such passion and volume that he influenced such previously staid musicians as “Jelly Roll” Morton, a Creole who played piano in some of the prostitution houses. Eventually we get to Louie Armstrong, who wasn’t among the first wave of jazz musicians. He was born to a fifteen-year-old girl and started playing in a band at the Home for Wayward boys.
Eventually the reformers win out, thanks mostly to prohibition and World War I. The War Department didn’t want its soldiers falling prey to the degradation and disease that existed in Storyville. A railroad terminal was also built on the border of Storyville and the passengers had to pass houses of ill repute in order to get where they were going. So, New Orleans was clean for a while, but the city was still playing second fiddle to Atlanta, Houston, and Dallas, and the city leaders finally realized that they could sell what was formerly known as vice, mainly the music and the partying (See Mardi Gras). Most of the great musicians, including Armstrong, had already left when their livelihood dried up. Something else unexpected occurred. Prior to the reform movement the blacks, creoles and whites intermixed and got along about as well as anyplace in the South. Afterwards, Jim Crow reared its ugly head.
About a hundred a fifty pages after he first introduces was the mayor thought was a serial killer, Krist returns. More murders are occurring. Many of them have the same M.O. The intruder cuts out the lower panel of a back door, he stages the scene to look like a robbery, and he uses an axe he finds on the property, and he leaves it there when he’s finished with his grisly business. In the last section of the book, Krist identifies a possible killer, but he can’t prove it, so the case remains unsolved.
Kudos go out to Krist for including a bibliography, and index, and footnotes, something that pseudo historians these daysdon’t seem to find necessary. Krist also includes about a dozen pictures, usually at the beginning of chapters or sections. I enjoyed this book immensely and highly recommend it to history lovers and those who just like the city and are curious about how it evolved.
The second aspect of the book deals with Storyville. The mayor, council members, and businessmen were worried that the city had a bad reputation as a crime-ridden Babylon. They were willing to look the other way while prostitution houses, gambling, and what they considered sin went about its business, but they wanted to segregate it to one part of town, and that was Storyville. Krist centers on two vice lords, Tom Anderson and Josie Arlington. Arlington was a madam; Anderson ran several dance halls, with a hand in prostitution etc, ran an oil company on the side, and was a Congressman for almost the entire twenty years Storyville existed.
The third area Krist concentrates on is jazz music which evolved in the prostitution houses and dance halls of storyville. I was surprised to find that one man was given credit for the origination of the music. Buddy Bolden played with such passion and volume that he influenced such previously staid musicians as “Jelly Roll” Morton, a Creole who played piano in some of the prostitution houses. Eventually we get to Louie Armstrong, who wasn’t among the first wave of jazz musicians. He was born to a fifteen-year-old girl and started playing in a band at the Home for Wayward boys.
Eventually the reformers win out, thanks mostly to prohibition and World War I. The War Department didn’t want its soldiers falling prey to the degradation and disease that existed in Storyville. A railroad terminal was also built on the border of Storyville and the passengers had to pass houses of ill repute in order to get where they were going. So, New Orleans was clean for a while, but the city was still playing second fiddle to Atlanta, Houston, and Dallas, and the city leaders finally realized that they could sell what was formerly known as vice, mainly the music and the partying (See Mardi Gras). Most of the great musicians, including Armstrong, had already left when their livelihood dried up. Something else unexpected occurred. Prior to the reform movement the blacks, creoles and whites intermixed and got along about as well as anyplace in the South. Afterwards, Jim Crow reared its ugly head.
About a hundred a fifty pages after he first introduces was the mayor thought was a serial killer, Krist returns. More murders are occurring. Many of them have the same M.O. The intruder cuts out the lower panel of a back door, he stages the scene to look like a robbery, and he uses an axe he finds on the property, and he leaves it there when he’s finished with his grisly business. In the last section of the book, Krist identifies a possible killer, but he can’t prove it, so the case remains unsolved.
Kudos go out to Krist for including a bibliography, and index, and footnotes, something that pseudo historians these daysdon’t seem to find necessary. Krist also includes about a dozen pictures, usually at the beginning of chapters or sections. I enjoyed this book immensely and highly recommend it to history lovers and those who just like the city and are curious about how it evolved.
The Midnight Assassin
Prior to the Jack the Ripper murders, a similar case in Austin, Texas, beginning in 1884 and culminating in 1886, occurred. Some thought the two incidents were connected.
It started with scare tactics. During one of the first incidents a ghostly man appeared at the foot of the bed of a potential victim, then disappeared. During ensuing events the culprit attacked various maids sometimes hitting them over the head, at other times shooting through the window. A Swedish girl was hit in the back by a bullet, missing vital organs. But then the attacks got more gruesome. Molly Smith, a cook and maid, was hacked to death with an axe, but her paramour, Walter Spencer, survived. The authorities concentrated their investigators on the black population, until two white socialites were murdered with an hour of each other.
An insane asylum existed outside Austin, with a building for the criminally insane. Author Skip Hollandsworth devotes a chapter to the progressive treatment of the inmates. For instance a wall was torn down and replaced by a four foot barrier. The inmates were treated humanely for that time in American history when most insane asylums were horror shows. But Hollandsworth and the police didn't seem to think it was worth the effort to talk to the supervisor until about a hundred pages into the book. The authorities were convinced it was a black man or a black gang committing the atrocities, and several were hauled in for questioning. But all had alibis or there was no evidence.
In my opinion Hollandworth spends too much time trying to make a connection between Austin and Jack the Ripper. For instance one of the Jack the Ripper suspects attended the New Orleans Exhibition at the same time as the attacks and murders.
There is one very intriguing clue. The killer went barefoot. The police had a bloody footprint they used to eliminate or confirm suspects. Nobody matched. Hollansworth offers up some intriguing suspects that I would have have pursued had I been the police. One was a fifteen year old boy who later killed his wife and family. There's another connection. He found the axe that dispatched Mrs. Hancock, one of the socialites. Hollandsworth eliminates him because family members insisted he was an upstanding young man prior to the death of his father. Another likely suspect is the son-in-law of Dr. Ashley Denton the supervisor of the insane asylum who was abruptly committed to a nearby sanitarium. Hollandsworth never clearly explains why Dr. Givens was never a serious suspect.
Hollandsworth does an excellent job describing the Austin of the 1880's. It was a city on the rise. The University of Texas was built there as was a new capital building and a fancy three-story hotel. Electric lights were a new convenience in 1880. After the socialites were murdered the residents were afraid to go to bed at night. The city invested thousands to purchase arc lights, a few of which still exist to this day.
Gradually the murders were forgotten. The reason they're not well-known is because the city and the people made a concerted effort to make sure they were never mentioned, not even in historical accounts. No one was ever convicted of the murders, although twelve men, mostly blacks, were pegged as suspects.
It started with scare tactics. During one of the first incidents a ghostly man appeared at the foot of the bed of a potential victim, then disappeared. During ensuing events the culprit attacked various maids sometimes hitting them over the head, at other times shooting through the window. A Swedish girl was hit in the back by a bullet, missing vital organs. But then the attacks got more gruesome. Molly Smith, a cook and maid, was hacked to death with an axe, but her paramour, Walter Spencer, survived. The authorities concentrated their investigators on the black population, until two white socialites were murdered with an hour of each other.
An insane asylum existed outside Austin, with a building for the criminally insane. Author Skip Hollandsworth devotes a chapter to the progressive treatment of the inmates. For instance a wall was torn down and replaced by a four foot barrier. The inmates were treated humanely for that time in American history when most insane asylums were horror shows. But Hollandsworth and the police didn't seem to think it was worth the effort to talk to the supervisor until about a hundred pages into the book. The authorities were convinced it was a black man or a black gang committing the atrocities, and several were hauled in for questioning. But all had alibis or there was no evidence.
In my opinion Hollandworth spends too much time trying to make a connection between Austin and Jack the Ripper. For instance one of the Jack the Ripper suspects attended the New Orleans Exhibition at the same time as the attacks and murders.
There is one very intriguing clue. The killer went barefoot. The police had a bloody footprint they used to eliminate or confirm suspects. Nobody matched. Hollansworth offers up some intriguing suspects that I would have have pursued had I been the police. One was a fifteen year old boy who later killed his wife and family. There's another connection. He found the axe that dispatched Mrs. Hancock, one of the socialites. Hollandsworth eliminates him because family members insisted he was an upstanding young man prior to the death of his father. Another likely suspect is the son-in-law of Dr. Ashley Denton the supervisor of the insane asylum who was abruptly committed to a nearby sanitarium. Hollandsworth never clearly explains why Dr. Givens was never a serious suspect.
Hollandsworth does an excellent job describing the Austin of the 1880's. It was a city on the rise. The University of Texas was built there as was a new capital building and a fancy three-story hotel. Electric lights were a new convenience in 1880. After the socialites were murdered the residents were afraid to go to bed at night. The city invested thousands to purchase arc lights, a few of which still exist to this day.
Gradually the murders were forgotten. The reason they're not well-known is because the city and the people made a concerted effort to make sure they were never mentioned, not even in historical accounts. No one was ever convicted of the murders, although twelve men, mostly blacks, were pegged as suspects.
Into The Black Nowhere
If you're a fan of “Criminal Minds” or seen the movie “Silence of the Lambs” you're familiar with the BAU and the term “unsub”. Meg Gardiner has authored an UNSUB series using the FBI profilers as her major characters.
Unlike “Criminal Minds” Gardiner doesn't spend a lot of time focusing on the personal lives of the FBI agents, although there is some of that. Caitlin Hendrix is the Clarice Starling of this novel. She's a rookie FBI agent recently assigned to the BAU, which basically hunts serial killers. Her boyfriend is a fellow agent working on a bombing case in California. She doesn't see him often enough.
Blond women are being killed, centering on Texas and New Mexico, but gradually moving north. Caitlin gets a tip from a woman who thinks an ex-boyfriend may be the killer. She says he set fire to his apartment after an argument; she was saved by his roommate.
The bad guy likes to clothe the bodies in baby doll nightgowns, and this guy had a picture of the woman asleep with a white nightgown cloaked over her body. Gotta be the guy, right?
Let's skip ahead to a preliminary hearing where Ted Bundy seems to have risen from the dead. If you remember that case, Bundy, a law student, was so good looking he had groupies at the trial. I don't think they were willing to overlook murder, though, so this part of the book seems like kind of a stretch. This hearing occurs about half way through the book so you know a twist is coming. The guy also seems able to be in two places at the same time; the BAU thinks he might have a partner. If you watch closely you may be able to guess who that is.
The woman who sent the tip, eventually becomes a target as does her daughter, who's in college in Portland, Oregon. Emily just happens to be a member of a female rugby team. Have you watched a rugby game? Do you know what a scrum is? Gardiner seems to have an agenda. Her female characters aren't afraid to take on guys in physical confrontations. There's a scene toward the end that'll have you on the edge of your seat, and it's between a female FBI agent and the serial killer.
There's one thing wrong with a mystery series. If you've seen a likable character for several books in a row, you're not too worried about he or she getting snuffed, unless Cormac MacCarthy is doing the writing, and he doesn't write serials.
Unlike “Criminal Minds” Gardiner doesn't spend a lot of time focusing on the personal lives of the FBI agents, although there is some of that. Caitlin Hendrix is the Clarice Starling of this novel. She's a rookie FBI agent recently assigned to the BAU, which basically hunts serial killers. Her boyfriend is a fellow agent working on a bombing case in California. She doesn't see him often enough.
Blond women are being killed, centering on Texas and New Mexico, but gradually moving north. Caitlin gets a tip from a woman who thinks an ex-boyfriend may be the killer. She says he set fire to his apartment after an argument; she was saved by his roommate.
The bad guy likes to clothe the bodies in baby doll nightgowns, and this guy had a picture of the woman asleep with a white nightgown cloaked over her body. Gotta be the guy, right?
Let's skip ahead to a preliminary hearing where Ted Bundy seems to have risen from the dead. If you remember that case, Bundy, a law student, was so good looking he had groupies at the trial. I don't think they were willing to overlook murder, though, so this part of the book seems like kind of a stretch. This hearing occurs about half way through the book so you know a twist is coming. The guy also seems able to be in two places at the same time; the BAU thinks he might have a partner. If you watch closely you may be able to guess who that is.
The woman who sent the tip, eventually becomes a target as does her daughter, who's in college in Portland, Oregon. Emily just happens to be a member of a female rugby team. Have you watched a rugby game? Do you know what a scrum is? Gardiner seems to have an agenda. Her female characters aren't afraid to take on guys in physical confrontations. There's a scene toward the end that'll have you on the edge of your seat, and it's between a female FBI agent and the serial killer.
There's one thing wrong with a mystery series. If you've seen a likable character for several books in a row, you're not too worried about he or she getting snuffed, unless Cormac MacCarthy is doing the writing, and he doesn't write serials.
Cockroaches
When the Norwegian ambassador to Thailand is stabbed to death with an unusual knife, The Secretary of State and the Police Chief insist that Harry Hole be sent to investigate due to his celebrity in solving a serial killer case in Australia.
Or so it seems. When Harry arrives he's on a beer binge, thinking that he can at least function while drinking beer as opposed to the hard stuff.
When he arrives he's paired with a homicide detective, Liz Chumley. She's part Thai and part American. She's also a strange looking woman who could be taken for a man: “...broad-shouldered and almost as tall as Harry, the hairless skull had pronounced jaw muscles and two intensely blue eyes above a straight mouth.” Turns out she'd contracted alopecia as a young woman, losing her hair. She's one of the most interesting people, who, like Lisabeth Salander, disappears too often in the plot.
Remember now, this is Thailand, the sex capital of the world. The first clue Harry stumbles across was that Atle Molnes may have been a pederast. There are some pictures in his car that point in that direction. Later we discover Atle was a gambler and he owed lots of money. There's a mafia in Thailand, but Atle apparently borrowed money from a travel company that served as a front for easy loans with high interest. Harry has Atle's phone records and they're listed; they've been hounding his widow for the money. This is extremely weird since Atle was one of the heirs to a furniture company in Norway; he should've been able to pay easily.
Another valuable clue: there's reindeer grease on the knife that killed Atle, which points to a Norwegian killer.
Towards the middle of the book Harry decides to quit fooling himself; he stops drinking beer, and things start to steadily progress. Checking Atle's phone records, he discovers a call from Jens Brekke, a currency broker. He's a suspect as is Ove Klipra, a Norwegian builder who's working on an important road/rail project worth billions. He lives near the Molnes family, and he has an incriminating background. Harry focuses on him like a laser beam as he suddenly suspects he was sent here, not because of his success as a homicide detective, but because he was a drunk. The higher ups didn't think he'd be able to concentrate or stay sober long enough to ferret out the suspect they think did it. This guy is so important, they're trying to settle this in record time, and they keep pushing Harry to solve the murder.
A couple more people wind up dead, and Harry starts to put the clues together. Every dead person is related in a complicated manner that only benefits one person, and it's not the one the Norwegian bigwigs think it is.
I have read about a half dozen Harry Hole books. This is number two in the series, but I'd heard it mentioned before. This is where Harry gets hooked on opium. It's kind of a surprise since he'd just solved he case.
Or so it seems. When Harry arrives he's on a beer binge, thinking that he can at least function while drinking beer as opposed to the hard stuff.
When he arrives he's paired with a homicide detective, Liz Chumley. She's part Thai and part American. She's also a strange looking woman who could be taken for a man: “...broad-shouldered and almost as tall as Harry, the hairless skull had pronounced jaw muscles and two intensely blue eyes above a straight mouth.” Turns out she'd contracted alopecia as a young woman, losing her hair. She's one of the most interesting people, who, like Lisabeth Salander, disappears too often in the plot.
Remember now, this is Thailand, the sex capital of the world. The first clue Harry stumbles across was that Atle Molnes may have been a pederast. There are some pictures in his car that point in that direction. Later we discover Atle was a gambler and he owed lots of money. There's a mafia in Thailand, but Atle apparently borrowed money from a travel company that served as a front for easy loans with high interest. Harry has Atle's phone records and they're listed; they've been hounding his widow for the money. This is extremely weird since Atle was one of the heirs to a furniture company in Norway; he should've been able to pay easily.
Another valuable clue: there's reindeer grease on the knife that killed Atle, which points to a Norwegian killer.
Towards the middle of the book Harry decides to quit fooling himself; he stops drinking beer, and things start to steadily progress. Checking Atle's phone records, he discovers a call from Jens Brekke, a currency broker. He's a suspect as is Ove Klipra, a Norwegian builder who's working on an important road/rail project worth billions. He lives near the Molnes family, and he has an incriminating background. Harry focuses on him like a laser beam as he suddenly suspects he was sent here, not because of his success as a homicide detective, but because he was a drunk. The higher ups didn't think he'd be able to concentrate or stay sober long enough to ferret out the suspect they think did it. This guy is so important, they're trying to settle this in record time, and they keep pushing Harry to solve the murder.
A couple more people wind up dead, and Harry starts to put the clues together. Every dead person is related in a complicated manner that only benefits one person, and it's not the one the Norwegian bigwigs think it is.
I have read about a half dozen Harry Hole books. This is number two in the series, but I'd heard it mentioned before. This is where Harry gets hooked on opium. It's kind of a surprise since he'd just solved he case.
