From the publisher: A routine visit to one of Sam Acquillo’s job sites becomes anything but. The home’s owner, Victor Bollings, is lying in a pool of blood, the back of his head bashed in. And one of Sam’s closest friends in the cabinetry trade is quickly behind bars, the obvious suspect. For the cops, this is all standard fare. But as it turns out, nothing about the case is routine, obvious, or standard in any way. Sam and defense attorney Jackie Swaitkowski are used to an uneasy, though often reciprocal, relationship with law enforcement. But when the chief of police tells Sam to stay the hell away, this time he really means it. For Sam and Jackie, words like this are highly motivational, until strange new forces enter the fray. Forces from well beyond the borders of Southampton, from worlds as sinister as they are unfathomable. That doesn’t mean Sam and Jackie still don’t have a job to do. And a responsibility to defend the utterly defenseless: a Colombian immigrant with no legal status, no political power, and no alibi. With the full weight of the judicial system - - local, state, national, and international - - arrayed against him. For Sam and Jackie, it’s also a lesson in the confluence of all evils. When the murder weapon is determined to be a gold club given to Ernesto Mazzotti by the dead man when the latter was giving Ernesto golf lessons, he becomes the only suspect, and is promptly arrested. It doesn’t help matters any when Ernesto’s criminal record becomes known, to wit: he had gotten off on a charge of assault and battery, “beat a guy to within an inch of his life,” a rich customer with whose wife Ernesto was involved.
Jackie, now the defense attorney for Ernesto, convinces Sam to take the required test and get his private investigator’s license, thus enabling him to act officially as Jackie’s staff investigator who can act as her proxy. “Jackie had to declare that I’d been her assistant in investigations for at least three years. She hadn’t paid me, since it was usually hard to tell who was working for whom, but she knew a guy at the governing commission who gave us dispensation.” (Sam is told “If you think innocence is a criterion for defense attorneys taking a case, you don’t know much about how the law works.”” One more thing he can now add to his resume, which already included having been a professional boxer earlier in his life. A prominent creature in the narrative is Sam’s dog [his only companion in his home after he “blew up his marriage and professional life”] named Eddie Van Halen, who Sam refers to as a “forty-pound ball of fur.” As Sam says: “we lived in the same house, in a congenial arrangement where I fed him and gave him a place to sleep, while he hung around when I was there . . . Unlike other dogs I’d known, he often looked me directly in the eye, as if assessing my reliability in continuing the relationship, understandable since he’d spent his formative years as a feral animal, as had I.”
For this reader, the wonderful writing is always a highlight of this author’s work. Another is his passion for baseball [one which I happen to share]. In discussion with the Southampton Town detective, they make “a preliminary assessment of the Yankees’ prospects - - a frothy brew of irrepressible hope and thwarted expectations. Though we had to admit, the highs had exceeded the lows over the years, and for the thousandth time thanked the Lord we hadn’t been born in Boston or Philadelphia. ‘Or God forbid, Chicago,’ said Sullivan.” Another aspect ripped from the headlines is the fact that Ernesto, born and raised in Colombia, is still undocumented in the US, giving rise to the rampant anti-immigrant hordes who periodically gather to make their feelings known. The investigation, and the novel, are masterfully wrapped up, and this is one more novel by Chris Knopf that I can heartily recommend.