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So, for whatever reason, I felt the absolute need to 'finish' the audiobook I was listening to. I use the word 'finish' loosely, since my attention, I admit, did stray.
A Detective at Death's Door by H.R.F. Keating
(who won a bunch of awards for the life of me I don't know why)
Let me first start off by telling you that the main character is referred to as the 'Hard Detective'. Keep that in the back of your mind....
Basic story: poisoner on the loose, the first victim is a police detective and he doesn't succeed, because her husband is conveniently reading a mystery novel that has the same poisoning, and saves her by making her throw up. And if you missed that, don't worry, she lingers on the thought of his fingers down her throat over and over and over and OVER. And over.
So. Police detective nearly poisoned while lounging (sleeping) by a pool in a tiny bikini (this comes into play later). Someone slipped it into her Campari Soda (you will also get tired of those two words). She manages to recover, but is weak and forgetful. Half of the book is her repeated inner monologue, with phrases like 'Wait, yes, yes.... yes, that's it!" Over and over and over and over. People are questioned. Weeks go by (the timeline is a bit fuzzy, but it's awhile), more people are poisoned and die.
THEN! The security guard goes to the police station to report he saw the person who did it! Mind, he was questioned on the scene and nothing came of it. He describes a withered old crone in a long skirt and cloak (on a day it was so hot she was wearing her tiniest bikini) with a hooked nose. The police department jumps into action! A sketch is released! The big cheese comes down from the big city to take over the investigation! They poo-poo the main character's thought that maybe - just maybe - the guard is making up his story for attention. Her mind is obviously still addled from the poison.
But why did she doubt his story? Because he didn't mention her bikini, so he obviously didn't see. Obviously. Later, a re-enactment carried out by another police detective on her side shows that the guard couldn't have seen her drink from his vantage point (against the orders of the head cheese, who sees no reason for it!). Fun for the female police officer who helped with the re-enactment, who had to sit out on a cold day in a bikini, because that is vital in determining line-of-sight, obviously.
There is much more Mary-Sue-ism, blatant stereotyping (wizened old crones cannot be educated - FACT!), and a bleah plotline that eventually unwinds into a lukewarm solution that I only half know because I was, by that point, only listening to be able to say I finished it. Spoiler - I do know that the albino did it. (Yes, it got that bad, no, I did not make that up)
In other book news, I read Lawrence Block's All the Flowers are Dying for book club which was completely predictable and boring. I also read Sizzling Sixteen by Janet Evanovich, which was Staphanie Plum awesome (fun, fluffy, and completely distracting, which I needed). I am not listening to A Case of Exploding Mangoes, which is thus far... I'm not sure. I don't know where it is going.
A Detective at Death's Door by H.R.F. Keating
(who won a bunch of awards for the life of me I don't know why)
Let me first start off by telling you that the main character is referred to as the 'Hard Detective'. Keep that in the back of your mind....
Basic story: poisoner on the loose, the first victim is a police detective and he doesn't succeed, because her husband is conveniently reading a mystery novel that has the same poisoning, and saves her by making her throw up. And if you missed that, don't worry, she lingers on the thought of his fingers down her throat over and over and over and OVER. And over.
So. Police detective nearly poisoned while lounging (sleeping) by a pool in a tiny bikini (this comes into play later). Someone slipped it into her Campari Soda (you will also get tired of those two words). She manages to recover, but is weak and forgetful. Half of the book is her repeated inner monologue, with phrases like 'Wait, yes, yes.... yes, that's it!" Over and over and over and over. People are questioned. Weeks go by (the timeline is a bit fuzzy, but it's awhile), more people are poisoned and die.
THEN! The security guard goes to the police station to report he saw the person who did it! Mind, he was questioned on the scene and nothing came of it. He describes a withered old crone in a long skirt and cloak (on a day it was so hot she was wearing her tiniest bikini) with a hooked nose. The police department jumps into action! A sketch is released! The big cheese comes down from the big city to take over the investigation! They poo-poo the main character's thought that maybe - just maybe - the guard is making up his story for attention. Her mind is obviously still addled from the poison.
But why did she doubt his story? Because he didn't mention her bikini, so he obviously didn't see. Obviously. Later, a re-enactment carried out by another police detective on her side shows that the guard couldn't have seen her drink from his vantage point (against the orders of the head cheese, who sees no reason for it!). Fun for the female police officer who helped with the re-enactment, who had to sit out on a cold day in a bikini, because that is vital in determining line-of-sight, obviously.
There is much more Mary-Sue-ism, blatant stereotyping (wizened old crones cannot be educated - FACT!), and a bleah plotline that eventually unwinds into a lukewarm solution that I only half know because I was, by that point, only listening to be able to say I finished it. Spoiler - I do know that the albino did it. (Yes, it got that bad, no, I did not make that up)
In other book news, I read Lawrence Block's All the Flowers are Dying for book club which was completely predictable and boring. I also read Sizzling Sixteen by Janet Evanovich, which was Staphanie Plum awesome (fun, fluffy, and completely distracting, which I needed). I am not listening to A Case of Exploding Mangoes, which is thus far... I'm not sure. I don't know where it is going.