From Publishers Weekly
Lutz's Florida PI Fred Carver, with his bum leg and failed marriage, appears for the ninth time (following Torch) in a brisk, riveting adventure. Successful developer and contractor Joel Brant is accused of stalking a woman he says he doesn't know. Carver, not totally convinced by Brant's story, starts probing into Marla Cloy's apparently dull life. By the lethal, realistically ambiguous ending (no neatly wrapped answers here), Carver has uncovered a sad tale of twisted revenge, unrequited love and dark family secrets. He's also been attacked three times by a giant cretin, a truly terrifying character who's trying to stop the investigation, although Carver doesn't know who the giant's employer is. Middle-aged Carver must also deal with his black lover Beth's pregnancy and the still nasty police Lieutenant McGregor?who refers to Beth as "dark meat." Lutz's eye for Florida noir (fast food joints, trailer parks and "local criminals" who "view tourists as game animals") is impeccable. It's easy to see why he's won an Edgar and two Shamuses: this is top of the line.
Copyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Florida private eye Fred Carver thinks his new client, Joel Brandt, looks like Ted Bundy, the late serial killer. Furthermore, Carver has trouble buying Brandt's claim that he has never even met the woman, Marla Cloy, who has accused Brandt of stalking her. Building contractor Brandt is a recent widower whose life is consumed by grief and work. Carver reluctantly takes the case, trusting the instincts of the retired cop who referred Brandt to him. Finding nothing in Marla's life that would explain her behavior, Carver investigates Brandt and the circumstances of his wife's recent death. As the detective slowly begins to understand the psychological underpinnings of this peculiar case, he finds his own life threatened. A secondary but well-integrated subplot concerns the unexpected pregnancy of Carver's young lover, Beth. Both have their reasons for eschewing parenthood, but neither is completely convinced they are good reasons. This ninth Carver mystery, in which the motive isn't greed or passion but rather grief and loss, is one of the best in a fine series.
Wes Lukowsky