Review by Booklist Review
LAPD Detective Harry Bosch is back from an "involuntary stress leave," and his first case is what Detroit wiseguys call trunk music: two .22 caliber bullets in the skull of schlock movie producer Tony Aliso, with Aliso's body stuffed in the trunk of his white Rolls. The murder shouts Mob, but LAPD's organized-crime unit expresses disinterest. So Harry and his two young partners follow a trail of laundered money to Las Vegas and what appears to be a sure conviction. But Harry's perp turns out to be an undercover FBI agent with an ironclad alibi. In short order, he's up against the Feebs, LAPD's organized crime unit, a junkyard-dog Internal Affairs investigator, the real killers, Las Vegas hoodlums, bad cops, and the possible involvement of a woman he once loved and lost. Connelly, a former journalist on the crime beat, has taken traditional motifs from crime, cop, private-eye, mystery, and noir novels and created a terrific read. Harry is a Chandlerian knight errant: tough, shrewd, and principled enough to pursue the truth despite formidable opposition. Offering a sultry femme fatale, plenty of seamy and sordid--albeit palm-lined--mean streets, and half a school of red herrings, this atmospheric novel is truly one of the year's best entertainments. --Thomas Gaughan
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
From the opening bars, when the body of Tony Aliso is pulled from the trunk of his Rolls Royce Silver Cloud on Mulholland Drive, to the final grace note on a Hawaiian beach, Connelly has crafted a jazzy, funky, roller coaster of a book. The return of maverick L.A. homicide detective Hieronymous (Harry) Bosch (from 1995's The Last Coyote) is cause for rejoicing. The Aliso murder quickly embroils Bosch and his new team (Kizmin Rider, a young black female officer on the rise in the department; veteran Jerry Edgar; and their boss, Lieutenant Grace Billets) in a Byzantine tangle of Las Vegas mob money, Hollywood filmmaking and police politics. The plot rushes headlong into deadends and deadfalls, repeatedly reorients and tears off in a new direction. Never known for tact, the single-minded Bosch is soon hotfooting through an acronymic snakepit: the LAPD's OCID (Organized Crime Investigation Division); the IAD (Internal Affairs Division); the LVPD's OCU (Las Vegas Police Department's Organized Crime Unit); the FBI. Not only does each organization claim a piece of the action, but each also wants a piece of Bosch. Connelly has it all working together here: skillful dialogue, solid plotting, nuances of race and status and a pace that will leave readers gasping to keep up. Connelly's early promise (The Black Echo earned him the 1993 Edgar for best first novel) has been borne out nicely by succeeding novels. Trunk Music is his best yet. $400,000 ad/promo; author tour. (Jan.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
The latest Harry Bosch venture since The Bet (LJ 4/1/95) finds the LA detective back on the homicide squad trying to prove himself after his unwilling transfer to a desk job. He gets his chance when a wealthy Hollywood movie producer is found dead in the trunk of his Rolls Royce, taking Bosch to Las Vegas in search of clues. There he runs into an old flame, strip-show owner heavies, and the strangely interested Vegas police. Meanwhile, back in L.A., his team uncovers evidence of money laundering. Edgar award-winning Connelly offers clear, crisp prose, intricate plotting, and ever-increasing suspense in yet another masterful procedural. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
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 Carré's spies, you've come to the right place. (Book-of-the-Month Club selection; paperback rights to St. Martin's; $400,000 joint ad/promo for Trunk Music and The Poet; author tour)
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
