This is a gruesome read but a good read. Unlike the previous novel in the series, the plot is simple and the main characters have personalities.
The witness to a particular gory murder changes her account of what happened twice. She's only fifteen (a key factor, as it happens) and these changes to her story fit neatly inside a novel where the unreliability of memory is challenged. When she wrongly identifies the killer in a line-up parade (she picks out one of the detectives), McBain takes the opportunity to explain about a classic situation from Police Academy training. During a lecture to academy students, a man will be primed to walk across the room, work on the window for five minutes with a screwdriver, and then walk out again. All this is set up so that the students later will fail miserably to describe what he looked like and what he was doing, thus illustrating the principle of unreliable memory, even among police cadets. "When it came to what the man was carrying, an astonishing sixty-two percent of the students said a bucket of water."
As it happens, that is not why the witness wrongly identifies the killer in this case, but by the time we get to the denouement, we've forgotten that.
The weakness of the novel, to my mind, is the 19 pages of the dead girl's diary, shared close to the end of the book. I know McBain has a weakness for multiple narrators and different points of view but in this case, too much is revealed from one source at too great a length.
The tension slackened at this point. Also I just didn't believe the girl who died would write some of what she wrote -- it would all take too long, and I speak as a diarist. She'd be exhausted. She'd run out of diary pages in no time. I mean, who really writes: "During that time the television was going outside, it almost sounded as if there were people in the house besides us, people with their own problems and their own lives, thrashing them out on television the way we were thrashing them out there in Andy's room. After I told him, he just lay there on his bed for the longest time without saying anything at all, so finally I got up to go, and he said Sit down, Muriel."
But on balance it's a well-paced, fast read, compelling and urgent. I can see precisely why they made it into a film.
Interestingly, the fifteen-year-old who witnessed the brutal murder of her cousin is remarkably un-traumatised. The murder (in which the witness is also badly cut) happens on a Saturday night. In today's scheme of things, no way would she be in the squadroom on Monday afternoon, identifying the killer from a line-up unaccompanied. No two-way mirror. She's in the same room as the line-up parade and she IDs the killer by touching him on the shoulder. Her hands are both bandaged and she's got eight stitches in one cheek, and they ask her to TOUCH the killer?? Times have (thankfully) changed.