Judging by the cover, title, and marketing, it would be tempting to think this is another in the beloved "South-Florida Wacko" genre defined by the likes of Carl Hiaasen and Tim Dorsey. Actually, other than setting, it has more in common with the earlier, soft-boiled NW mysteries of Earl Emerson, which, much as I love my wacko-books, I don't consider that a bad thing at all.
Morris's protagonist, former pro-football player (be assured, fellow non-sports fans, this is part of his history, not what defines the character) Zack Chasteen also has more than a bit in common with classic TV detective Jim Rockford of "The Rockford Files." He's a likable ex-con, put in prison for a crime he didn't commit, with an entirely reasonable distrust of law-enforcement. He lives by the water, and has an eccentric sidekick who helps him along his adventures, but often not in the way he wants. Like Rockford, he dislikes guns, and seems to get hit in the head a lot.
Again, this is not a bad thing. But while Rockford was a bit of a rumpled low-life, Zack knows how to live well, and manages to do it through most of this book even when it seems he owns nothing but the shirt on his back. I actually found this refreshing, as far too many series detectives spend half their books dodging landlords, bill-collectors and repo-men.
As such, he's probably the most comfortable underdog I've seen in mystery fiction. Even at his lowest moments, he eats and drinks well (and his meals are lovingly described, stock the fridge before you start reading) and lives live in a cafe-free way most of can only dream of. If only living bad were really this good.
Reading the first book of an ongoing series is always an iffy thing, as many a successful detective has stumbled out of the gate, only for the writer to find their voice two of three books in. But in this case, I can comfortably recommend starting at the beginning.
This isn't a perfect book by a long shot. There are continuity and logic glitches that should have been cleaned up in editing. (For example, Zack receives some very-visible facial injuries early in the book which are only rarely mentioned later, even though they should be the first thing anybody he meets asks about. The injuries aren't really important to the plot, and could have been minimized, made less visible, eliminated, or even turned into a running joke as he fended off curious questions. As it is, they're just a distraction.)
The pacing can be uneven, and the plot (concerning gangsters, jet-set lowlifes, kidnapping, murder, and lost objects of great-value) seems overly complicated even as I saw the final twist coming well before the end.
Still, the book succeeds in three important things: It made me care about the characters, kept me flipping pages to find out what would happen next, and reached a satisfying conclusion. For this kind of light-mystery, that's meat, potatoes, and dessert right there.
A good start to this mystery series which hopefully will improve as it progresses. I've already ordered "Jamaica Me Dead," the next novel featuring Zack, for my Kindle, so I'll know soon enough.