Mini-Reviews: Crime and Suspense Thrillers

What was I thinking when I put my name in to win a book titled Dead Bomb Bingo Ray?  First, the blurbs enticed me: "Hard-boiled, hilarious, and as serious as a straight razor. It has more good ideas, great jokes, and splendid writing on one age than most books have in a full chapter" --Tim Halliman; "Jeff Johnson writes with a poet's rhythm, a boxer's attitude, and an artist's sense of style and flair."-Norman Green; "A rare treat." -Publisher's Weekly.

Plus, it was set in Philadelphia. We lived in Philly for fifteen years. I love reading about Philly.

And it is a Forward Indies finalist and a Library Journal Pick.

So I put my name in and lo, soon the book with a grenade on the front cover and a gun on the back was at my doorstep.

I opened it with trepidation. What if there was graphic violence? Was I up to reading a crime novel, this Neo-Noir genre? I had read Chandler and Hammett. But this is 2018...

In short, I loved this book. It was so much fun. It had a clever, convoluted plot, great characters, and stylish writing. It is hard to admit that a killer for hire, with a poker face and criminals for friends ends up being likable. He is good to his kidnapped dog.

Ray fixes problems. He got his moniker in Detroit when he took up a bingo card and wrote "Dead Bomb" on it to warn someone what was coming up. His reputation is such that the mention of his name causes fear and trembling. Maybe some soiling of pants.

Ray's secretary Agnes was a drop-out, drop-acid hippie in the '70's but passes as a sweet, little, old lady. She can get philosophical, hates Woody Allen, and has a son, Cody, who, after trying to kill each other, Ray took up and mentors. Skuggy is Ray's Kensington right-hand-man--well, left-hand-man since his right arm has been useless since a bad combination of drugs nearly killed him when he was a kid.

I was familiar with all the Philly locales. When Ray considers the particular smell of SEPTA, the acrid stench I too well remember even thirty years later, or how from a high building the trash blended in with the snow--oh, Filthadelphia!-- I thought, he was spot on.

Like Kensington where Ray's partner in crime lives. We lived there in 1979-80, back when it was a white working-class neighborhood. In those days the unemployed youth hung under the corner street lamps, smoking, and watching out for the 'hood. There was a bar on every corner. The sidewalks sparkled with broken glass. The empty factories were playgrounds.

"This is Philly for goodness' sake. Every other monster on Market Street would pull a pistol for twenty bucks. Kensington even less."

Ray takes his girl for a winter picnic at Clark Park in West Philly (home of the world's one and only Charles Dickens statue). They sit on the very bench where he once offed a man. (That's cold.) He hangs at 30th Street Station, where I often picked my hubby up from his travels, and the Reading Terminal Market, where we used to shop, and the posh Rittenhouse Square area where my hubby worked for five years. Ray goes to East Lansdowne, not far from where we lived in Darby.

The one point of contention I have is the romantic moment when Ray is with Abigail considers the stars at night. No way. I don't recall seeing stars, ever, in Philly.

The plot goes something like this: Three years previous, Ray burned a hedge fund manager who had stolen the money of retirees. The guy wants revenge and plans to set Ray up to take the fall for his newest scam. Meantime, Ray has met the girl of his dreams, the smart and beautiful physicist Abigail. She falls head over heels in love with Ray. As Ray unravels the Russian Doll plot of double-crossing double-crossers, he needs to protect her from them and from the truth of who he is. (She thinks he is scouting locations.)

Bombs go off, people are killed in various ways or given up to be tortured, Ray picks up seafood and cooks for Abigail, and when he isn't sleeping with Abigail, Ray sleeps under his dining room table and the weapons he has stashed on the underside of the table. With his dog.

In the end, Ray has a big decision to make when Abigail invites him to follow her to L.A.

All that violence, and yet the novel reads like a joy ride on a roller coaster. Johnson doesn't glory in gore or over detailed sexual contact.

In the end, I was very happy I won Dead Bomb Bingo Ray from Turner Publishing.

*****

Bring Me Back by B. A. Paris is a quick breeze of a read with enough suspense to keep pages turning.

The story is told by Finn and his missing girlfriend of twelve years previous, the mysterious and troubled Layla. Finn has moved on and is engaged to Layla's grounded and stable sister, Ellen.

But of course, everyone has a secret and no one is reliable.

Strange occurrences make it appear that Layla is back and Finn slowly gets sucked into paranoia and doubt about who he loves. Layla communicates by email and through leaving tokens. Finn tries to logic it all out on his own--is Layla back or is someone setting him up? Then turns to his ex and his best friend, who are not above suspicion. Ellen senses he is retreating from her, but he does not share what has been happening with her or the cop who had investigated Layla's disappearance.

I had a hunch of the truth in part two, and was nearly dead-on. The ending came quickly and was lackluster.

I felt there was less substance in Bring Me Back compared to the author's earlier novels. Still, for those who want a quick summer read, beach or cabin, this could do the trick.

I received an ARC from St. Martin's Press.

Publication June 2018.

*****

Thistle Publishing reached out to me with widgets for Jack Was Here by Christopher Bardsley. I downloaded the book and forgot about it for a week. Until a thunderstorm caused a power outage in the middle of the night.

I reported the outage to the power company and, knowing I would not get back to sleep for a while, opened Kindle and saw Jack Was Here on my downloaded books. Why not give it a look, I thought. 

Bad idea. My attention was caught right off by the main character, Hugh, an Australian Marine whose time in Afghanistan has left him wounded body and soul. He has just about hit rock bottom, with alcohol as his favorite coping device. I did get back to sleep but finished the book before noon the next day.

Hugh's brother forces him out of his catastrophe of an apartment with a challenge: family friends want to hire him to find their son Jack, missing in Thailand. Hugh has been to Thailand and they hope he can aid the hired detective in finding their son. The Thai police have been useless; besides, there are sixty-eight other missing Australians.

Jack was a smart, underachieving kid who was using drugs. His folks thought a trip abroad would be good for him. He took off for Bangkok. It's been six weeks since they heard from him.

Jack's parents offer Huh ten thousand dollars to find Jack, with five hundred a week expenses, and fifteen thousand if he brings Jack home.

"Thailand had been playing on my thoughts over the last few months. It was a mecca for losers like me, a warm climate to piss away your troubles. (...)I didn't expect that finding Jack would be all that difficult." Jack was Here

Hugh accepts the offer. It was, he thought, the "best possible thing that could have happened to me at that point. It was a bit of direction in my life."

As Hugh follows the paper trail of phone and banking records, readers get a deep look into the seamy side of Thailand, the prostitution and party life that attracts kids and middle-aged office workers looking for unbridled freedom from the drudge of their lives. And into the criminal organizations that run drugs from Cambodia through Thailand, and the police corruption that benefits with colluding with the criminals.

Getting Jack involves some pretty ugly things, including murder. But Hugh is determined to save one young man, an expiation for surviving what his fellow soldiers did not. 

I liked how Bardsley allowed Hugh to be the damaged person he is. I can't say readers will 'like' him and all his choices but we understand his struggle and pain.