Pronzini's bloodstained hands (Panic; The Snatch; The Stalker) seem more in evidence than sf-er Malzberg's in this see-how-they-run-from-a-carving knife account of some mutilation killings in the Adirondacks--three down when Ferrara, a psychiatrist, and Valerie Broome, New York feature writer, arrive in town to see when their local Jack the Ripper will ""tip"" again. The story cruises quickly from one character to another in short snatches, grabbing the reader and accelerating the momentum along with further fatalities and failed assaults. Is it (most likely) Steven Hook, failed actor, alcoholic, track loser? Or Jack Cross, local newspaperman, with too much mother and a girl who's pregnant to interrupt the fantasy that he's Clark Kent? The authors keep redirecting the suspicion while reserving a knout for the last line. Nothing to think much of or about, but galvanizing at the gut line.