One of the sleazier in the parade of psychopathic-killer books--made only more so, oddly enough, by some artsy burbles in the prose (""Her body spilled up to him like a ripe fruit""). This particular killer, who calls himself Dalroi and sends the usual anonymous letters to the cops, is into post-mortem rape (as opposed to mid-mortem rape, the wrinkle in Singled Out a few months back), and his latest victim is Alexandra Baskin, Manhattan career woman and party girl. Alex's surviving roommates, Paige and Francie, seem likely as the next victims, so they're being watched and badgered by the cops and by N.Y. Post reporter Miles, who beds uptight Francie. (""So he would put his. . . penis, cock inside her. What was the big deal anyway?""). Not satisifed with the intrinsic sex and gore in the crimes, Snow also provides a graphic autopsy and Paige's rape fantasies. And the killer is naturally the least likely (therefore most likely) person; his psycho motivations and interior monologues are no more credible here than in previous, less pretentious examples of trendy psycho-killer porno.