Review by Booklist Review
Nameless, the venerable, semi-retired San Francisco private eye, meets Cory Beckett, a model, as a favor to an associate, bail bondsman Abe Melikian. Abe is holding the ticket on Cory's younger brother, Kenneth, who is accused of stealing a valuable necklace from his employers, the Voorhees family. Cory says Kenneth is a drug addict, but when one of Nameless' operatives, Jake Runyon, tracks down Kenneth, he finds not an addict but a very scared young man who claims he was framed by his sister and is terrified of her. Turns out Cory's true vocation is marrying and divorcing rich men such as Andrew Voorhees. Sometimes, it's rumored, she kills the rich guys' wives to clear a path. When Mrs. Voorhees turns up dead, apparently a suicide, Nameless takes an interest, even though he has no client. This is a typical Nameless mystery: engrossing, tightly plotted and thought provoking. Pronzini is one of the modern masters of the Dashiell Hammett-style hard-boiled detective story, and his appeal to old-school crime fiction readers remains high.--Lukowsky, Wes Copyright 2015 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
In the heavy-handed prologue of MWA Grand Master Pronzini's 40th Nameless Detective novel (after 2014's Strangers), the San Francisco PI links Cory Beckett, "a femme fatale in the classic mode," with a "brand of evil like nothing I could ever have imagined." What follows doesn't live up to that hype. Bail bondsman Abe Melikian approaches Nameless on Cory's behalf to track down her brother, Kenneth, who's been arrested for stealing a diamond necklace belonging to a powerful union leader's wife. Kenneth has violated the terms of his bail by leaving the city without permission, and Nameless asks his partner, Jake Runyon, to trace him. When Jake finds Kenneth, the defendant claims that he was framed by his sister. The case soon escalates to murder. Nameless and his colleagues make an odd ethical choice that will have some readers scratching their heads, and the vicissitudes of the leads' personal lives seem tacked on. Agent: Dominick Abel, Dominick Abel Literary Agency. (June) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Kirkus Book Review
The Nameless Detective's so deeply impressed by the femme fatale who hired his agency and did them dirt that he devotes a prologue comparing her to such legendary vixens as Brigid O'Shaughnessy, Cora Papadakis, Matty Walker, and Catherine Tramell. Not so fast, Nameless. Looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, Cory Beckett tells Nameless that it's just as bail bondsman Abe Melikian has said: her brother Kenneth, accused of stealing a $20,000 diamond necklace from Margaret Vorhees, the alcoholic wife of San Francisco Maintenance Workers Union chief Andrew Vorhees, has taken a powder. Armed with the information Cory has helpfully supplied, agency operative Jake Runyon soon tracks him down. But Kenneth, who's obviously terrified of going back to the Bay Area and facing his sister, tells quite a different story. He didn't steal the necklace that was found in his car, he insists; it was planted by Frank Chaleen, a mysterious partner in Cory's schemes, in order to frame him. Naturally, Cory denies the whole story, and then so does Kenneth, who says he just made it up. The narrative's shifts in viewpoint from Nameless to Jake to Nameless' partner, Tamara Corbin, to Chaleen himself prevent the tale from developing much momentum, and by the halfway mark, the only casualty is Cybil Wade, Nameless' mother-in-law, dead of a stroke at 88. At length the bodies duly pile up, but the evil over which Nameless waxes so rhapsodic never seems justified by Cory's nefarious behavior. Judging from Nameless' superlatives, in fact, you'd think he'd completely forgotten the women who drive the plot of Camouflage (2011), only four titles back in this venerable series. What a shame that Cory is just as forgettable. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.