Amidst racial divisions in 1964 Chicago, Mike receives an anonymous note with a 1934 $10,000 Federal Reserve Note and a cryptic message that the bill is payment for unspecified future trouble. Tracking down the sender spins into a 40-year-old kidnapping case involving four US Army officers in World War I, stolen gold with connections to the French Bonnot gang (the first to use autos in bank robberies), a Babylonian sex goddess cult, and trouble from Henry Ford's grandson. Death and lust stalk Mike and Rick on this one, and threatens their client, who becomes the sacrificial sex object of the cult.
You'll find murder, action, suspense, and the typical quicksand that is Mike's struggle about love and commitment to Molly in this the fifth volume of the Mike Angel Mystery series of complex, historical, and erotic novels.
This is a noir novel complete with sarcastic humor back when PC wasn't eroding logic. If you find yourself laughing occasionally, that's okay. It's not a comedy.
Mike Angel, the womanizing private investigator, is back for another adventure in Dark Idol. In true form, Angel gets slapped with more than his fair share of intrigue and women this romp around Chicago when he receives a 1934 $10,000 Federal Reserve Note and a cryptic message. Tracking down the sender spins into a 40 year old kidnapping case involving four US Army officers in World War One, stolen gold with connections to the French Bonnot gang.
Dark Idol is well-written, sets a fast pace that keeps the pages turning, and stays true to Angel's unique voice. One point I particularly like about this book is that Angel wrestles with his conscience several times, and it is a conflict between his womanizing ways and his devoted girlfriend. This vulnerability of his makes Angel seem that much more real and believable a character. There is also an unusual twist in the final chapter of this book, and it makes me wonder if the Mike Angel Private Eye Mystery series will continue. I sure hope it does. If I have any bones to pick with this story, it would be that Mr. Fears is just too smart for this reader. For most books, I can usually figure out whodunnit and how much faster than the protagonist in a book, but this time, he had me guessing nearly to the end. I guess that's not really a bone to pick then, is it? Bonus points for Mr. Fears.