It's a murder mystery, set in New York City. Well-trod ground, to be sure. The cop in charge of the investigation already has too many other cases, is divorced, living alone, and finds himself under investigation by Internal Affairs. Again, not unfamiliar characteristics to the genre.
Trigoboff's angle is to emphasize Detective Yablonsky is not a particularly exceptional detective. He's not stupid, necessarily, but seems as though he needs time to tease things apart and solve cases. The internal monologue repeatedly emphasizes his awareness that many crimes go unsolved. His former partner tells Yablonsky he's not half the detective he was, to his face. All in all, not exactly inspiring.
Or the angle is how limited the system is. Limited people, trying to figure out who committed a crime from limited evidence and limited cooperation. Everyone with an ax to grind or secret to hide, including Yablonsky. Beyond that, the case ends up venturing into waters of diplomatic immunity, that's still more limits.
It wasn't a book I had much difficulty putting down. Not because it's hard to read, or Trigboff is too graphic. More because Yablonsky seems so resigned from the start, it's hard to escape the feeling of futility. There's not going to be any real justice, the innocent won't be protected. The victims' families don't even seem all that broken up about their deaths. It feels like Yablonsky's a detective either for the pension, or lack of motivation to do anything else. Even the few scenes of violence or action lack any real tension. At worst, someone may day a little sooner than they would otherwise.
Kinda nihilistic when I write it out. Yeesh.
'Outside a crowd had already formed in front of the apartment building. How did they find out so quickly? he wondered. He flashed his badge and got their attention. "The apartment of a murder victim is sealed for three months. No one can take occupancy now," he said.
He watched the mob of prospective tenants curse, complain and scatter before him. He felt like Wyatt Earp.'
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