Take fine writing that is as smooth as satin and dialogue that snaps and zings with humor and energy. Add a plot that's one eye-popping surprise after another, a setting to die for, and a hero who is tough, compassionate, and good. Stir in a cast of intriguing characters, toss in some spicy action, and you're virtually guaranteed a superb mystery story. Berlinski's latest, his third in the Aaron Asherfeld series, takes place in scenic San Francisco and has the sometime lawyer and investigator wrapped up in a bizarre plot that involves illegal accounting shenanigans, Russian swindlers, Muslim drug dealers, blond bimbonic bombshells, and murder. Aaron's former colleagues and friends, accountants Marvin Plumbeck and Eddie Ergenweiler, have been accused not only of filing a fraudulent Q10 report for one of their clients but, worse, of sexually harassing one of their firm's secretaries. When Aaron steps in to help, he finds that his friends, for all they claim to be innocent, have at best ignored the truth and at worst closed their eyes to murder. The plot rockets along effortlessly, engaging the reader in a passionate, funny, frightening story with a surprisingly bittersweet ending. A definite thumbs-up for this genuinely entertaining book.
Emily Melton
From Kirkus Reviews
Has all-purpose misanthrope Aaron Asherfeld been mellowing too long in the California sun? The meanest detective this side of Inspector Dover gives a dollar to a panhandler, fails to kick a particularly provoking police dog (a German shepherd named Officer Reinhardt), and ventures scarcely an anti-ethnic syllable during his third case (Less Than Meets the Eye, 1994, etc.). Maybe he's subdued by the improbable beauty of the person he's looking for: receptionist Alicia Tamaroff, whom financial planners Marvin Plumbeck and Eddie Ergenweiler have installed on San Francisco's Russian Hill as the kept woman they share with a lesser associate who gets only Fridays. And maybe he's thrown off his stride by the sheer loopyness of the mistress who's gone AWOL and filed a harassment suit. As Asherfeld waffles between interviewing Alicia's therapist (whose shingle ought to read Practice Restricted to Bimbos), tracking down Alicia's Russian connections, and worrying about a second, apparently unrelated lawsuit Marvin and Eddie have to deal with, each new subplot is ripe with promise. But the book, whose ramshackle plot seems to have been cobbled together by a committee, never ties them all together, and it's something of a miracle when Asherfeld finally rings down the curtain. The biggest disappointment, though, is Asherfeld's suspiciously equable comportment throughout. What's he got to be so happy about, anyway? --
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