In reviewing the previous book in the Elvis Cole series, The Last Detective, I complained about the fact that Cole spent the novel mired in family difficulties resulting from the kidnapping of his girlfriend’s young son who was taken while in Cole’s care. I expressed the hope that he would soon get back to kicking ass and taking names while investigating an interesting mystery of some sort.
I was thus disappointed to discover that in the next edition of the series, The Forgotten Man, Cole is still caught up in family matters, albeit of a different sort. The detective is still moping around, dealing with the fallout of the events that closed the last book, when he gets a call from a police detective. A man has been shot to death in a dark alley and with his dying words, he told the police at the scene that he was trying to find his son, Elvis Cole.
Cole had a troubled relationship with his mother and never knew his father, not even the man’s name. Cole’s mother handed him a ridiculous story about the man who had fathered him and, as a young impressionable boy, Cole took the story to heart and acted upon it.
Cole is certain that the man who has just died was not really his father. Elvis has been much in the news lately because of the fallout from his last case, and he assumes that this confused old man was spouting nonsense as he died.
Still…
Cole is thus drawn into the investigation of the man’s death and in the process, spends a fair portion of the book recollecting about his childhood. Much of this story is told from the perspective of Elvis as a young boy and gradually fills in the background of the detective’s life story. The problem, for me at least, was that I didn’t find the backstory all that compelling, and I really didn’t care about it. Again, as was the case with the last book, I was annoyed because Cole was mucking around with this business, rather than doing something interesting.
Truth to tell, I have gotten along perfectly well as an avid fan of crime fiction without knowing about the childhood and early life story of Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe, or Spenser, or a dozen other protagonists that I enjoy following. As was the case with the last book, though, I admit that I am in the minority. Apparently, a lot of other readers enjoyed this book and the discussion of Cole’s roots.
I thought the story was okay, and I enjoyed the interactions between Cole and Carol Starkey, the police detective who plays a prominent role here. But again, I didn’t find this book nearly as entertaining as many of the others in the series.
Oddly, I don’t remember if I had this reaction to these two books when I first read them years ago; perhaps I’m just getting harder to please in my advancing years. Still, I plan to soldier on and continue rereading the entire series in order, and I’m hoping that I will find the next Elvis Cole novel to be more satisfying than the last two.