Quinn Parker, San Francisco phobia specialist turned detective, made his likable debut in Blood Under the Bridge (1989). Here, he's sleuthing and stumbling onto clues to a murder in a Jamaican tropical paradise while picking up speed as a moving target himself. Quinn's pal Hank, a mainly unemployed comic, has a legacy. Hank's college friend, Martin, had been killed--shot 12 times in the head in waters bordering Martin's Jamaican property of ``Seven Altars.'' Quinn and Hank fly down. At the house: Martin's gorgeous widow, Stephanie; Bongo, a dreadlocked lawyer; an easy-living neighbor; and a brace of tootsies. Quinn visits, with Bongo, the Seven Altars (stunning waterfalls); observes the town police (beefy, brutal, with shades); wonders about the overachieving 12- shot murder. Back home, Quinn will have an apology from Stephanie's apparently millionaire brother Russell, whose goon had dangled Quinn over a cliff--the cause, Russell's girlfriend, an unhappy tapioca with revenge on her mind. Someone wants the Jamaican property--Hank is beaten to a pulp; there are two murders in San Francisco; a gun-waving chase up the Seven Altars; and red herrings splash around. Nice green Jamaican ambiance, great action, fair-enough puzzle, and Quinn again, with his unforced humor and engaging decency.