THE LAST DANCE

Cynthia Keating says she found her father, Andrew Hale, dead in his bed. Faint cord marks on his neck and Rohypnol in his blood say otherwise. And for a landmark 50th investigation, the men of the 87th—Carella, Meyer, Hawes, Brown, Parker, and Kling (The Big Bad City, 1999, etc.), joined by Fat Ollie Weeks, equal opportunity bigot of the 88th—fan through the streets of Isola, unearthing a vintage array of vics, perps, rats, and innocent bystanders, tracking the case witness by witness. Stoolie Danny the Gimp knows a guy who was in a poker game with a knife-scarred Jamaican contract killer who took him home afterward for a night of sex and “roofies.” But Danny gets aced by a couple of thugs who work for El Jefe, Hightown dealer of designer drugs. Meanwhile, an alert neighbor reports that Hale was visited by a big man who offered him, in his radio- announcer’s voice, the opportunity to make millions—an opportunity Hale refused. And Fat Ollie, looking for whoever stabbed Althea Cleary—girl from the sticks by day, topless dancer by night—careens through the projects downtown, turning up a hot lead on a scarred Jamaican and a hot plateful of fried bananas for good measure. McBain plots masterfully, each new encounter winding the skein tighter. The few slack threads here—his perennial musings on the human condition, this time focusing on race relations—never interfere with his matchless affection for all his detectives, the good, the bad, and the dyspeptic. (Literary Guild featured alternate; Mystery Guild main selection; author tour)