I like to get back to John Lescrorart from time to time. Not only is he master of the well-crafted mystery novel, but he sets his stories in the familiar geography of San Francisco as well as among a familiar cast of lawyers cops, DA’s, and PI’s. One or more of these folks is usually the principal of the story, and the others appear as needed or wanted. This time, the cluster of main characters is lawyer Dismas Hardy, homicide lieutenant Abe Glitsky, and bartender/Dismas relative, Moses McGuire.
At issue is the murder of an aide to a city councilman, an aide who is a garbage of a guy who has badly mistreated the daughter of said McGuire, among other women. A whirlpool of emotions surround the murder and the resulting trial of McGuire for a crime of revenge, and the number of people that get pulled into the vortex widens to include everyone from the police chief to the prosecuting attorney. Typically far out, even for Lescroart, we never find out whether Moses truly did the deed or not. Nor to we find out (I kept wondering) till the very, very end what the title meant. And in what I thought at first was rather a jumble of an ending, we discover (or at least I think we discover) that the book is actually not about Dismas, or Glitsky, or DA Wes Farrell or McGuire. It’s about McGuire’s daughter, Brittany. And her hairdo. Nicely done.