Reginald Libby had fallen a long way since his glory days as a high-school athlete. First came Vietnam, then PTSD, then a doomed marriage to Claire Fontaine, the social-work student who took their son Joey and left him when she couldn’t rescue him. In more recent years Joe’s former teammate and comrade-in-arms has been known as Reggie the Can Man for the scavenging habits that helped give him subsistence. Now, however, there’s a rumor that he had another job, working for someone who owned a truck with an unidentifiable logo. Although Reggie was almost homeless—his most predictable domestic routine was meeting Maura O’Brien every Friday for sex—he wasn’t property-less, and everyone from self-identified witch Star Goodall to predatory developer Charlie Hazen seems to have been interested in his parcel of land. So maybe it’s no wonder that someone drowned him in a bathtub and then tried to make his death look like an accident, which Portland Police Chief Paul Cote is only too ready to accept. As he battles to keep his nurse lover Chris at arm’s length long enough to peer deeply and painfully into his old friend’s sad life, Joe (The Angel of Knowlton Park, 2008, etc.) is unaware that a shocking surprise is about to erupt in his own domestic affairs—one that will give him a great deal more empathy with Reggie, even if it doesn’t make this tangled case any easier to unravel.A sensitive, earnest and densely plotted tale in which pretty much everyone ends up being guilty of something.