When a Hamptons fat cat is murdered, a certain cool-cat chief of police has a hellcat in his bed.
That would be Abby Harmon, the newly rendered widow of Wall Street tycoon Evan Harmon. For Justin Westwood, top cop of East End Harbor, on the blue-collar edge of New York’s posh Hamptons, it’s a case of deplorable timing to say the least. Justin’s not entirely to blame. In an area famous for rich and sexy women, “there wasn’t anyone who was quite as rich and sexy as Abigail.” On top of that, she’d downright stalked him, making it clear that what Abby wants, Abby gets: end of story. The discovery of Evan Harmon’s severely beaten corpse results in an uproar. Justin is suspended and asked to turn in his badge and gun. No one really believes he had a hand in the murder, but D.A. Larry Silverbush sees the governor’s mansion in his future, with every TV sound bite a stepping stone. As if Justin’s not sufficiently embattled, a second front opens up in his hometown of Providence, R.I., with another violent death, this one a family matter. Can the two possibly be connected? Of course they can, and connected also to a scary international conspiracy involving rapacious robber-barons, some baleful old enemies and a pair of ninja-type killing machines. Battered, bloodied and beset by powerful men intent on guarding dangerous secrets, Justin manages finally to solve all his mysteries. Except, perhaps, for one. Will he ever again be the cop he was?
Andrews (Midas, 2005, etc.) writes well, serves up an appealing protagonist and then, as he’s done before, undercuts suspense with an over-complicated plot requiring pages of explanation.