Frank Clemens, still haunted by his daughter's suicide (Sacrificial Ground), still a drink-the-night-away friend of the mysterious Farouk (Flesh and Blood), continues on in the noir shadows of New York. Here, the tormented p.i. desultorily works on his day case--discovering why Virginia Phillips is sadly pawning her jewelry--but is haunted by his night case: the murder of a gypsy fortuneteller by the gypsy goddess, queen Puri Dai, who is at once sensual, feral, fierce, and mesmerizing. Despite the Puff Dai's confession, Frank believes she's protecting someone. Her gypsy lover? The other gypsy woman who also lived with the fortuneteller? Whoever was kept in their apartment's latched closet? With Farouk as his guide through Romany arcana, Frank is consumed by his night case, half in love with the Puri Dai, and dumbfounded at her refusal to help him save her. Slowly grasping what it means to a gypsy to have ""holy blood,"" Frank ultimately understands what tortures the Puri Dai, and what awaits her young daughter, unless. . .meanwhile, McBride, a homicide cop involved in the case, also has ties to the day case and, with perhaps a tad too much plot symmetry, is instructed by Frank to offer the abused Virginia the Purl Dai's way out, for what it's worth. Another wordy, multilayered, much overwrought Cook effort. The coda, however, wherein Frank finds a daughter to rear, is genuinely touching.