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Executive Times |
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2008 Book Reviews |
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Killer
Heat by Linda Fairstein |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click
on title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Uniform Linda
Fairstein presents another Alex Cooper novel titled, Killer
Heat. The action starts with the discovery of a badly decomposed female
body in an abandoned building near the Staten Island Ferry. Over the next few
hundred pages, Fairstein takes readers all around New York as a serial killer
seems to have a special interest in woman in uniform. Here’s an excerpt, from
the beginning of Chapter 3, pp. 20-22: “They didn't threaten me.
They're way too smart for that." I dropped the case folder on top of my
desk. "Why can't Lamont just
boot their asses out?" Mercer Wallace asked. "They didn't do
anything.
Nothing except sound effects that won't show on the record. By the time we
figured it out they were gone." "And tomorrow?"
Mercer was a first-grade detective assigned to the NYPD's elite Special
Victims Unit. He had painstakingly: reconstructed the case against Floyd
Warren and wanted it to proceed without complications. "Lamont says he'll deal
with it if they come back. It's a public court- room. He can tighten the
security but you know he'll never, seal it." "More than that, I know
you can't play with the Latin Princes, Alex. To Posano, you're the face of
evil. You're the one who put him in jail, when he figured he had everyone
else scared away. You stood in front of him day after day, building your case
and arguing to the jury, dancing circles around his mouthpiece. It became way
too personal with him." "He's got years to get
over it." "His crew is too vicious..
They may not realize you've got some tough innards beneath that pretty
packaging. And some powerful reinforcements covering your tail." I didn't question Mercer's
warning. In the last year alone, the Dominican gang leader had ordered the
unsuccessful hit of a federal judge who had presided over a drug case that
sent three of his lieutenants to jail and intimidated scores of witnesses
from appearing in a handful of related grand jury investigations. "If
harassing me is what they wanted, consider it done." I sat down in front
of the air conditioner and lifted my hair to let the cool air blow on the
back of my neck. "What's the word on Kerry?" "The
flight is on the ground in Chicago. Severe thunderstorms. I don't think
she'll land before ten tonight, but I'll pick her up and take her to the
hotel." Kerry
Hastings was a twenty-two-year-old graduate student when Floyd Warren broke
into her Greenwich Village apartment and raped her. The 1973 trial had been
another assault—on her truthfulness, on her integrity, on her spirit—and when
the jury failed to agree on a verdict, she retreated from her once pleasant
life even further. Mercer was one of the few people who had engendered her
trust, from the time of his first phone call, astounding her with the news
that she might achieve some measure of justice after all these years. "I'd
still like to have her here at seven thirty in the morning. I want to go over
her testimony once more." "I
have the feeling she'll be better rested than you." "I'm
set. Who could imagine that this case would be easier for me to try now than
it was for my predecessor thirty-five years ago? Easier for Kerry, too." "Chapman's
here to suck a little more of that energy out of you."
"Where?" "Down
the hall in the conference room. Got someone with him." I
stood up, fanning myself with the manila folder that held Pablo Posano's
posttrial motions and his inmate number at the maximum security prison where
he was serving time. "I'll check it out. You want to call Attica for me?
See if we can get a list of Posano's visitors and his phone log?" "Sure."
Mercer reached for the file as I walked out of the room. The corridors
emptied out earlier than usual during the hot summer days. There were fewer
trials as lawyers,
judges, and witnesses escaped the city on vacation. Government
workers were
allowed to leave their
offices on afternoons when
temperatures, threatening to overload the electrical power grids, climbed
above ninety-five degrees. It was six fifteen and the executive wing of the
trial division was
quiet. I
pushed open the
door and saw Mike sitting
across the conference table from a young woman who was talking to him. A handful of snapshots were spread out in front of
her, and Mike was studying
two of them as she
spoke. "Here she is," he
said. "Alexandra Cooper, I'd like you to
meet Janet Bristol." The most obvious
thing about her
when she looked up
was the
redness and swelling around
her eyes. I wasn't surprised. It was rare
for me to meet
someone for the first time, professionally, who had much to smile about. "Janet
showed up at the First
this morning," Mike
said. "She saw the squib in the Post. The one about the
body." "I haven't had a chance to
read the newspapers .today." Mike handed me a story—three
short paragraphs-buried deep in the back of the news section of the tabloid. "MARITIME
BATTERY . . . AND ASSAULT: TERMINAL. The
naked remains of an unidentified woman were found yesterday evening in the
abandoned offices above the aging ferry slip ...” "Janet's afraid the victim
might be her sister. We may need you on this, Coop." "Thank you for coming in. I
know how difficult
it must be for you." "I doubt that you
do." Her comeback was fast and sharp. "We're on our way to the
medical examiner's office. Janet's going to try to make an ID." Standing in front of the
morgue's viewing window was one of the most painful steps a family member was
forced to endure in the course of an investigation. Nothing could prepare
Janet for the condition of the face and body she was about to see. "How can I help?” Whether
you’ve read earlier Fairstein novels or not, Killer
Heat is likely to bring you heart thumping reading pleasure. Steve
Hopkins, August 15, 2008 |
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Go to Executive Times Archives |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the Seeptember 2008 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Killer Heat.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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