Anger and anguish
Once again, Patricia Cornwell has come up with a first rate mystery. It will probably be the last one by her that I read, because frankly, I'm weary of the angst of her characters. Kay Scarpetta is a lonely, driven, sad woman who has a lonely, driven, sad niece. Neither of them seems quite real. Is there any joy or love in their lives? Doesn't seem so, and it's tiring.

The villain of the piece -- Carrie Grethem -- will undoubtedly turn up again in the next novel. Her demise was not certified, and I can't read one more word about a woman who can manipulate any and all circumstances at her pleasure.

As I said, the mystery was a good one, if a bit gory. But nothing good, or fun happens to any of the protagonists. When we leave them this time, it's at the scene of a funeral, and I can't help but believe that their sad lives will just go on in this vein as long as we buy the books. I've bought my last one.

The book is full of stereotypes. The young brilliant lesbian helicopter pilot/computer genius/cop. The male slob police captain. The overweight public defender who could have used a bra and is Jewish to boot (it apparently doesn't occur to Cornwell that some people who are accused are innocent, or that everyone has the right to counsel so defense counsel are all villains in her view. Racially stereotyped villians.)

Worse than that, the plot doesn't hold water. A foal survives a fire in the stable. A lot is made of that early in the book. Then it's dropped. An escaped mental patient is able to follow and anticipate Scarpetta's every move. How did that happen? Worst of all is the stupidity of the police. A horse ranch burns. A burned car is found on the premises. A body that does not belong to the ranch or the car is found in the bathroom. The owner of the ranch early on tells Scarpetta who the person killed likely is. No attempt is made, apparently, to trace this woman's life or look for connections (such as did anyone she know own such a car) for a few weeks until Scarpetta goes out and does it herself. In fact no one ever attempts to find out who the car belongs to until it just happens that, when they find who the killer is they realize (wow!) that, hey -- this person owns that type of car. But, of course, if the police had any sense and, in investigating a murder by arson looked for who owned the car that didn't belong there, they would have found the killer in a few hours and this long book would have ended without the endless whining of Scarpetta about the state of the world and how horrible it is that people are in it that cause her to do what she does for a living.

But of course, it's hard to credit the criminal genius Scarpetta is pursuing with being diabolically clever when that person leaves an auto at the scene of the crime.

Give me a break!

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