A case of arrested development, says forensic pathologist Rebecca Duvall of her friend/lover/colleague Seattle shamus Leo
Waterman. Just another, albeit larger, version of Peter Pan, she maintains, adding that what she wants in her bed, in her life, is
a grown-up. Leo, being Leo—which is to say smart, sensitive, though unquestionably stubborn’sees her point, but is not about
to schedule a makeover. Anyway, it's all trauma-induced, a sympathetic friend tells Leo—totally predictable in the aftermath of
the smash-up. There they were in backwater Stevens Falls, a tiny island off the Atlantic coast, sort of nosing into the untimely
death of a friend—not really serious about investigating, not much more than mildly curious—when a couple of very large trucks
sandwiched their very small car. With malice aforethought. With broken bones (for Rebecca), stitches galore (for Leo), and
hospitalization (for both) as the scary result. Message received, Rebecca says, and wants to call it quits. Whatever the secret of
Stevens Falls is, the sensible thing, the adult thing to do is let it remain buried. But Leo, being Leo, can't operate that way. He
has to know what's rotten in Stevens Falls. And, just as much to the point (for Leo), he has to generate payback.
The thinnish ’secret" takes too long to unwrap, but tough, funny Leo (Last Ditch, 1999, etc.) is worth the price as usual.
Rebecca, be advised—Leo's the gumshoe to stick to.