Tag Archives: mystery

A Slow Burn

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10822505 by
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

I admit I like free shit. I also admit I’m not entirely rational in my thought process. For example, I happily hand over my Bouchercon and Left Coast Crime Conference fees and feel like I’ve won the lottery when I receive a bag filled with books. Seriously, this ends up being one of the major highlights of these conferences. So in my continued pursuit of this high, minus the conference fees, I have decided to scour Amazon for the best free short stories and books available. With that being said, let’s get to the review.

The beginning of A COLD DAY FOR MURDER reminded me of a tall sequoia, as I stood on the uppermost branches, staring out at a picturesque world, before I slipped and then smacked every branch on the way down. Even though I’ve never been to Alaska, I feel like I could paint a picture of its vast wilderness and attractive scenery and include a few interesting characters to boot, if I should so desire. Several of the chapters began with multiple pages of description, the text coming to life right before my eyes, springing forth like a cactus in the desert.

It wasn’t until I was about 36% through this tale on my Kindle (this transfers to roughly 71 pages into the print edition) before the mystery really took hold and took off. Had it not been for some lovely description and Kate’s straightforward, no-holds-barred mentality, I might have given up on this novel earlier. As it stands, though, I was rather glad I pushed through. Even though Kate isn’t the most likeable character, I really enjoyed her toughness and even found her abrasiveness rather amusing most of the time. She’s a character with some rough edges that I’m sure will get smoothed out in one of her later adventures.

As for the other characters, none are as fleshed out as Kate Shugak, but all showed signs of life and enough enthusiasm for further tales. The mystery proved interesting and engaging, but at times it felt like it took a backseat to the characters and the scenery. In the end, though, this was an enjoyable read from the first page to the last, it all fit together perfectly, and I look forward to catching up on more of Kate’s exploits.

The Past Attacked

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My Rating: 3/5 Stars

While Kit and Grif still had plenty of appeal and charm and various other pleasantries, I found myself a bit lost with this particular read. Sure, the hard-boiledness still captured and held my attention, and sure, the story moved along at a rather reasonable clip, but I found my mind drifting toward the nether regions, and my heart didn’t miss a single beat. A nurse may have visited me while I was counting ceiling tiles, and I may, or may not, have had an IV injected in my arm, somehow improving my overall well-being.

The past may have attacked my faded blue jeans, and my hat may have been tilted just a bit to the side, as I tipped it in the direction of the skirts and blue-eyed wonders that happened to cross my path. THE LOST left me a bit red in the face, and more than once I was forced to consult the map on my passenger seat. I probably missed a turn or two, but I was certainly happy when I reached my final destination.

The mystery certainly intrigued me, but it wasn’t a perfect logical leap from the first tale, and it wavered a bit during various increments along the way. I found my attention vacillating and my car swaying as I took more than a few turns too sharply. Blinking a bit too rapidly, I propelled myself into a ditch, since I didn’t have Griffin Shaw to show me the way.

Kit came alive in this novel after a bit of a slumber in the first go round, but it wasn’t enough for me to rate this novel higher. Maybe it was my place in the universe, or my sense of self, or I might have gotten just a bit spoiled after I first dipped my toes in the swimming pool, but I’m a bit sad to admit I didn’t like this one better. A part of me feels as though I’ve somehow failed this book, but with the curveball headed my way, I’ll probably take one more last swing for the fences and hope I don’t spin myself around and tumble to the ground.

Sexual Healing

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My Rating: 3/5 Stars

Quarry might just be one beautiful bastard, even if he manages to lose a few teeth along the way. The women certainly don’t seem to mind. Whether he goes for the more experienced ones, or the younger ones who managed to knock themselves on the head with the beauty branch, right before their mouths open wide, he certainly empties himself in a rather judicious fashion. He’s an equal opportunity sexual healer, who pounds Percocet with reckless abandon, and always manages to get his man…or woman.

He’s not described as a large man, but he takes up a lot of space, and he’s not afraid to shoot right between the eyes, and stuff the bloodied corpse in the back of his trunk. Like the pages of QUARRY IN THE MIDDLE that somehow manage to contain his presence, he rushes toward the end, even if he gets tripped up along the path of redemption. More than one evil presence fills the pages of this tall tale. Even if the penultimate conclusion ends in a mild whimper, I still managed to root rather hard for the home team, and wield my Louisville Slugger with pride and compassion and mild resentment.

The curves on these broads, though, nearly had me on my knees. One day, when I’m probably on my deathbed, sucking turnip juice through my respirator, as pale as a white house, with varicose veins and a twitch in my right and left hand, I’ll tell the nurse, in between gasps of breath, “They don’t make ’em like that anymore.” And then I’ll probably pass out for the next twelve hours, only to snore so hard that I wake myself up.

If you don’t mind a few motherfuckers between the pages, a damsel in distress or two who just happens to own more than one pair of sheer panties and maneuvers better than a Hoover, then you’ll feel right at home between this warm blanket. Even if you have to sleep with one eye open and a hard look over your shoulder whenever you maneuver down a dark alleyway. I’d say it’s well worth the tradeoff, and I’ll try not to wait so long to read the next one.

The Other Mugger

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17946174 by
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Dude,

Don’t mess with Jordan Rivera. Who is she? You ignorant piece of shit, she’s the one that left me with a broken arm and spitting up teeth like I was a water fountain in the middle of Central Park. She went psycho on me after I tried to take her wallet, and you, you unconscious bastard, left me behind. I don’t care if you were flattened within an inch of your life. This was your goddamned idea in the first place. Of course you didn’t know she had a three-foot chain, and that she knew karate and shit, but if you want to live longer than twenty-two years, you need to take this kind of shit into account, or next time I’m going to leave you on the pavement, instead of dragging you away with your tail between your legs. I took a risk being your friend, and I had no clue it would put me in the fucking hospital.

You need to actually do some reconnaissance next time. What does that mean? You need to actually scout these chicks out, and if you find out she takes self-defense classes, then just step off. I ain’t in the mood to look like no damn fool, just so you can score some blow for some damn ho who won’t even let you see her naked with the lights on. This shit is important. You need to recognize that chicks like her with a glint in her eye and a warning that escapes her lips are fucking serious. She’s as serious as that dumb ho is about making a baby. And if you want to help populate the universe, instead of pushing up pansies, you will do the research, or maybe next time I’ll pound your stupid ass into the pavement. And maybe I’ll do it in front of the ho. Then your manhood will shrivel up to the size of a raisin, you know right where it belongs.

By the way, she’s getting a little long in the teeth. Maybe you should trade her in for a new model, before she secures you at the hip and falsifies one of them pregnancy tests, or maybe she grabs ahold of your sperm while you’re unawares. I can’t do all the thinking for you. I didn’t take no SATs. Hell, I didn’t even graduate high school.

Hell, now that I think a little more on it, I’m not even sure why we were friends in the first place. I’ll just leave this on your bed, and I’m getting the hell away from you. You’re like that cancerous growth my Uncle Bob used to complain about. I think it might have been on his big toe, and they zapped that shit out, just like I zapped out your sorry ass.

Sincerely,

The Other Mugger

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Two Thumps Up

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13288179 by
My Rating: 5/5 Stars

I’d say I’ve met my new favorite all American badass, and what I hope is the start of a beautiful friendship. Quarry is a former soldier that doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty, and there are enough beautiful dames and plenty of broads to keep even a man like Quarry satisfied throughout the pages of this action packed novel. The abundance of death rivals most Shakespearean tragedies, and the prose packs more punches than a heavyweight bout. Quarry has a smart mouth, and he utilizes all of his weapons to perfection.

As described in THE FIRST QUARRY, he’s not an assuming man, but he’s not one that should be underestimated either. Multiple individuals make that mistake in the novel, and it’s often their last one. I delved into this novel so deeply I felt like I was the action star, and I was playing on the big screen at one of the local multiplexes. Needless to say, I was rather disappointed when I reached the end, and not because the end wasn’t satisfying. In fact, I was rather giddy with the prospect of reading eight more Quarry novels and knowing that there is a ninth one coming out early next year with a cover that looks every bit as scintillating as all the other Hard Case Crime novels out there.

Now I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the lovely ladies in this novel in more detail, and what a fine troop of women it is that trek through the pages of this noir tale. Dorothy Byron may have a few miles on her, but as Quarry puts it, he wouldn’t mind helping her with a few more. And with a mouth talented enough to suck a basketball through a garden hose, she’s every man’s wet dream. Annette, on the other hand, has dark hair and a dark complexion, and what she lacks in age-related experience, she more than makes up for in youthful enthusiasm and daddy issues.

If this is ever made into a movie, I’d like to put in my vote for a black and white film, and Hollywood needs to bring in the curvy women. Forget the stick thin models, let’s see some curvy broads and femme fatales with a sharp tongue or two. As for the rating (and in tribute to the late Roger Ebert who passed away two days ago), I’ll resort to the old Siskel and Ebert standard of two thumps up. Way up.

The Hard-Boiled Convention

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My Rating: 3/5 Stars

Kinsey Millhone might have her iconic status entrenched about as well as Sue Grafton has hers, and the series has kept me just interested enough to continue through to O, but I’ll need to take periodic breaths in between, or I might find myself gasping for air as the clock strikes E. Who knows? I might make it all the way to G before I pass out, but there’s the distinct possibility I’ll turn blue sooner rather than later.

Like a female version of James Bond, she has her good points, and she has her bad ones, but she goes down easier in small doses. Sugar helps, and divorces might too, of which she’s had a few, even if she’s only in her mid-thirties, and her smile might be an easier pill to swallow, if the mystery didn’t feel as though it was a bit forced.

Her male counterparts may lack in development, and end up a bit too lean on their stocky frames with hard noses and hard attitudes, and a lack of conviction, and possibly convention as well. A personality injection might even the score, even if they could probably use a little more. The mystery felt undernourished, and could probably have used a bit more flourish. Or maybe panache might have made my smiles a bit cleaner, even if the prose was already leaner…than many tales with a PI at the center of attention, even as she strives for the hard-boiled convention.

Even the women proved of a crazy sort, with eccentric personalities that they should probably abort. It was slow, and it was fast, and often somewhere in between, but I never felt fully engaged in the scene. I might have laughed, but I certainly didn’t cry, as I watched some poor motherfucker die. And when it was all said and done, I needed a pause before I attacked the next one.

Torrid Pace

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18888694 by
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

The torrid pace produced eyestrain and finger cramps, as I flipped pages on my Kindle as fast as I could. I literally raced ahead as if I were a RUNNER, which I am on most days. And I might have forgotten who I was for about four hours or so. Or possibly longer. There’s no real way to tell. But my Kindle was juiced up and ready to go, and the story was filled with enough keyholes that I needed a better master than the one currently in my possession. I slipped and slid, and I might have even broken my neck were I not sitting down, as the story took off faster than a Viper on the open road.

Sam Dryden showed more heart from the word go than I expected from a former Delta Forces member, and he sure as shit didn’t mind hopping back in the game after an extended cooling off period. But maybe he’d never left the battlefield, or maybe all he needed was an excuse to strap a submachine gun to his chest and place himself in the line of fire. Or it might have just been the right cause at the right time. There’s always the chance a Jedi mind trick was shoved in his direction, but that’s all hearsay.

Rachel showed plenty of poise and heart and even a bit of warm liquid goo. She was the alpha without a true omega, and she might have needed saving. Or then again, she might not. But I liked her from the beginning, even if I didn’t always understand her motivation. Like the story itself, she kept me on my toes, as I danced around the landmines that seemed to await me every fifty feet or so.

While the ending may have fit the story perfectly, that doesn’t mean I have to like it. But it worked, just like all the rest of it. Now if I can bring my adrenaline rush back down to a more normal speed, I might save myself and my heart from further complications.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Stella Got Her Groove Back

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7488669 by
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

I must say Stella got her groove back in a resounding way with a slip of the tongue here, or a quick play on words there, or a face-to-face when the situation warranted itself. She doesn’t back down from anyone, including sheriffs or ne’er do wells, and she sometimes finds herself in precarious situations, but that’s all part of her endearing charm. She’s full of life, spunk, and possibly salt and pepper with a side of cinnamon. And she has the scars to prove her torrid marks on society, and a slew of bad men standing ready to watch her fall.

Stella Hardesty may not look like much upon first glance, but she has a revenge streak something fierce, and she sees her cases all the way to the end, with a mean side of revenge, even if it means she might dangle from the occasional precipice. I’d say that’s more than part of her appeal, and she has an additional side of charm.

With a cast of characters ready to excel on the big stage, including the blonde miscreant with possibly an extra hint of cellulite, the sidekick that doesn’t mind dipping her nipple in the nerd gene pool, and the sheriff who has acquired a few skeletons in his own closet, most of which may have been put there of his own volition, there’s a bit of fun for everyone.

The mystery, though, managed to leave me in dire financial straits, as I wanted a little more bang for my hard-earned buck. This was all about the characters instead of a hard-boiled plot for the ages and times. Not that I minded all that much, but the ending felt a bit forced upon me like a leering side of smashed peas shoved down my gullet, when I would have much preferred a side of sweet candied yams staring up at me with pleading eyes. And not that I mind guessing the ending before it has arrived, but it appeared ready for center stage rather than just a sidelong glance in my side mirror. In that regard, it reminded me of a Lamborghini tooling around in the middle of Arkansas or Mississippi.

This was a solid effort by a solid voice in the hard-boiled mystery genre, but I’d set my expectations a bit higher.

Man’s Best Friend

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My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Me and Bernie working a case. There’s nothing better. The wind whipping my fur, the barking—I was barking?—my head out the window taking in the breeze and the smells—don’t even get me started on the desert smells after a hard rain. The squirrels and the choke—squirrel—collar and the tumbleweeds and steak (juicy deliciousness) and bacon (definitely not the crisp kind) and little rats and weasels and biting pant legs and opening doors and hamburger and chew strips and an entire family pack of bacon—don’t even get me started.

And I bark and Iggy barks and I bark and Iggy barks, and then Iggy disappears—no, he’s back again—and I slurp fresh water (the smell) and of course I like Slim Jims—what kind of a silly question is that?—and silly stoners and Bernie needs a loaner and we’re off and running on the case, or maybe that’s just me. But then I see a squirrel and a Frisbee and of course I like fetch—what kind of a question is that?—and the Porsche with its clickety-clack-clack sound before it all breaks down. Bernie boxing for show and nearly losing all his dough and fast food—where? did I miss it?—and ice cubes (like a cold biscuit before it dissolves in my mouth) and special treats and sitting in the backseat—let me tell you, it’s not as fun as shotgun.

Holy hell, Chet and I could be best friends, but he’s man’s best friend, so it’s all good. But good doesn’t even begin to describe this massive amount of fun. Chet may have the attention span of a fruit fly, but he’s got the voice of an experienced gumshoe digging through the entrails of his next case, and he’ll see it through all the way to the end, even if he manages to get sidetracked every three-and-a-half minutes.

The sidetracks, though, are where things tend to get interesting. Sure, there’s a mystery—albeit a slightly simple one, but this is a dog we’re talking about after all—and sure, it’s solved by the end but the real excitement lies in the and back roads and dog shows—perfect for a world-class gumshoe of the canine variety.

I’ll need to hold my fedora in my hand the next time I see Spencer Quinn—there was a brief encounter at the Albany Bouchercon—because he really nailed Chet’s voice. Nailed it so well that I thought I was a dog for a few hours, and I really, really want to be a dog all over again sometime soon. It’s a good thing I have TO FETCH A THIEF in the reading queue. Because if I didn’t, I’d certainly need to put it there…like right now.

Mystery From A Dog’s Perspective

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My Rating: 4/5 Stars

If you ever wanted to stick your head inside a dog’s brain, wiggle it around a little, and see what decides to pop out, then DOG ON IT is the book for you. If you’re a mystery lover with a heightened sense of curiosity about said dog, then that’s even better. If you don’t love dogs on some sort of basic level, then you might find yourself in a state of uncertainty. Or maybe you like unique voices in detective fiction. But the bottom line is it’s all about the dog, and Chet fills every page with his unique perspective.

This book was an easy read, but it was a darn fine enjoyable one, too. Chet was lovable, affectionate, filled with happiness and joy, and just so darn cute. He changed direction about as often as Britney Spears changes her underwear, but I got caught up in whatever scent, or thread, or squirrel happened to pop into view.

As for unique voices, though, I’m drawn to those like cars are to potholes. Chet made me feel like I was driving down I-25 with my head stuck out the window and the wind assaulting me, as my nostrils filled with the fresh air after a brief desert rain. The rhythm of the sentences, the quick turn of direction, and the bubbles that seemed to pop with the utmost ease allowed me to believe I was inside Chet’s head every step of the way.

Sure, Chet had his faults, but he was as lovable on the first page as he was on the last. And sure the mystery could have been more complicated, but this is a dog’s perspective after all. It helps to look at it from a slightly tinted glass. Just smile and wave boys, smile and wave, because Chet is here to stay.