Hollywood homicide dick Harry Bosch goes up against whoever killed high-rolling, lowlife filmmaker Tony Aliso and tipped his body into the trunk of his Rolls. The early buzz on the case shouts Las Vegas--so Harry heads out there in hopes of tracking down Tony's latest companion, a stripper named Layla. Instead he finds a trail of evidence that links Tony to a money-laundering operation for Joey Marks, the outfit's top man in Vegas; to Dolly's, a strip club owned by Marks lieutenant Luke ("Lucky") Goshen; and to Eleanor Wish, an ex-FBI agent whose activities took her to Harry's bed and a stretch in the pen before she turned up on video playing poker at Tony's side. Tough-guy Harry (The Last Coyote, 1995, etc.), incredibly still carrying a torch for Eleanor, wastes no time rekindling their affair--Eleanor's sullenness cracks just long enough for some brisk sex--and then finds he has to cut all sorts of deals with the Vegas cops and his own department to keep her out of the case he's building against Lucky Goshen. Back in L.A., deeper trouble awaits: When Harry lays out the case against Goshen--motive, fingerprints, murder weapon--he's told that Goshen's an undercover FBI agent with an ironclad alibi and that he's dashed into the middle of a sting that's been years in the making. Relieved once again of his homicide assignment, Harry--together with trusty sidekicks Jerry Edgar and Kiz Rider--goes up against Tony's killers himself, with results as gripping and satisfying as they are improbable. Forget realism, okay? If you'd like to see a buried love affair take off like a rocket and a bunch of crooks and crooked cops as canny and treacherous as le Carres spies, you've come to the right place.