A plot-twisting, page-turning humdinger in which collateral damage gets a murderous spin.
Alive, actress/model Susie Monaghan snagged her allotted 15 minutes of fame and then some. Dead, she became an absolute sensation. She was gorgeous, yes. Talented, maybe. A head case, no question: a beautiful, outrageous flake who did drugs unabashedly and went through boyfriends carnivorously. A fatal helicopter crash off the coast of Ireland rocketed her to the top of the A-list, where she hovered indefinitely like some headline-hungry ghost. People couldn’t stop talking about her, which is OK with a certain young Dublin journalist. Jimmy Gilroy, recently downsized, has received an unexpected and most welcome book deal. He’s charged with immortalizing Susie Monaghan, an assignment he’s prepared to take very seriously given his straitened circumstances, plus the attractive added inducement of Susie’s lovely sister, whose input he deems integral to the project. But then the worrisome phone calls from longtime friend and benefactor Phil Sweeney commence, suggesting ever more forcefully that he back off. Other voices join in. It’s from an obviously unnerved and deeply depressed former prime minister of Ireland, however, that he hears the phrase “collateral damage” applied to Susie. Five others died when the helicopter went down. Jimmy knew that, of course, but now he gets his first sulfuric whiff of something rotten being covered up.
His prose spare but spirited, Glynn (Winterland, 2011, etc.) spins an all-too-likely tale of secrets, lies and power corrupted. Chilling.