The narrator of this dank, gritty mystery-debut is Eddie Margolis, 26, an East Village (N.Y.C.) alcoholic who discovers the shot-up body of his buddy Tony Santucci--one-time rocker and full-time junkie. Whodunit? Was it a creepy local dealer called The Merk? That's what Eddie believes--until The Merk himself is killed, perhaps by Chinese drug-merchants. So Eddie, going firmly on the wagon, must sleuth in other directions--all involving the drug scene and beatings for poor, persistent Eddie. One trail leads to a seductive drug-queen in a posh penthouse; another leads to Tony's rich brother Frank, a Mob-connected, Jersey-based bully who stole Tony's girlfriend Gloria (one of Eddie's occasional bedmates here). And the whole truth emerges only after a nightmarish crawl through the East Village junkie scene--with Eddie desperately tracking down a source of heroin for his junkie pals. (The usual drug-flow has mysteriously started to dry up.) Eddie himself, despite his mixed ancestry (Jewish/Cuban) and his alcoholism, is never quite a believable, full-scale hero. The plot, despite an occasional intriguing twist, is essentially predictable, monochromatic in its drug connections. Still, with a little mordant humor to soften the oppressively sour atmosphere, this is a solid debut--grimly vivid in its locales, frequently engaging in its supporting cast of hookers, bartenders, and cops.