Countdown to Zero

REVIEWS BY BRUCE TIERNEY

Not that long ago, paparazza Nina Zero lived a normal life as small-town American girl Mary Alice Baker. She put bread on the table by photographing babies for their doting parents. If any criticism could be leveled at her, it would be that she had dubious taste in men, one of whom cajoled her into carrying a small package to the Los Angeles airport. The package exploded, taking out an entire terminal, and Mary Alice Baker went to jail for her unwitting role in the affair. Fast forward five years: out of the slammer on a shaky parole, she works as a tabloid scandal sheet photographer under the pseudonym Nina Zero. She sits patiently on a Malibu hillside above the home of a reclusive actress, in hope of snapping the $50,000 photo that none of her rivals has been able to get. Then all hell breaks loose: a man with a very large gun beats her senseless, an epic California brushfire greets her awakening, and a large toothless rottweiler emerges from the smoke beside her. The fire department and the police are not far behind, and Nina finds herself in the unsavory position of the parolee, guilty until proven innocent. Burning Garbo is the third book in Robert Eversz' hip series featuring plucky anti-heroine Nina Zero, and in many respects, it's the best. The action is nonstop, the Los Angeles images spot on, and the mood evocative of the noir classics that defined the early great L.A. crime novels.


In the black

Larchmont Hall, suburban Chicago, dead of night. Private investigator V.I. Warshawski gingerly makes her way through the dark grounds, pursuing her investigation into reports of mysterious lights emanating from the long-abandoned mansion. Unexpectedly, an intruder appears; Warshawski gives chase and stumbles face first into the chilly waters of a pond. In her scramble to get out, Warshawski grabs hold of the first thing available for leverage: a human hand. The hand, it turns out, belongs to Marcus Whitby, a reporter who had been researching a story on the McCarthy-era witch hunts. When the coroner rules Whitby's death a suicide, Warshawski decides to investigate what she strongly suspects is murder. In Blacklist, writer Sara Paretsky draws parallels between the McCarthy era and the post- 9/11 Ashcroft era, when two frightening buzzwords, "communist" and "terrorist, " allowed (and allow) the government unprecedented dominion over the American citizenry. Warshawski's liberal politics will run her afoul of the law, both local and federal, as she chafes under the authority that allows the hitherto illegal wiretapping and ransacking of her apartment. Blacklist, the 11th entry in the V.I. Warshawski series, is both a compelling mystery and an indictment of the McCarthies of all eras. Who could ask for more?


Never felt more like singing the blues

Tribeca Blues, the third installment in Jim Fusilli's critically acclaimed series featuring pro bono detective Terry Orr, is a revelation to those of us steeped in the legends of solitary sleuths and wisecracking investigators. Orr, in addition to his investigative work, is a somewhat serious single father of a rather precocious teenage girl. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful wife and an infant son as well, until they were pushed in front of an oncoming subway train by a madman. Since then, Orr has been trying, more or less successfully, to rebuild his life. The madman, however, is still at large, and finding him occupies an inordinate amount of Terry Orr's time and attention. Little does Orr realize that his ongoing investigation is about to rock his world, testing his closely held assumptions about love, marriage and outward appearances. Fusilli, a music critic for the Wall Street Journal, has quite an array of talents at hand: excellent plot and character development, a great handle on location (New York City), a fine ear for dialogue, and the mystery writer's greatest gift: the ability to truly surprise the reader.

Oh yeah, what about the coveted Tip of the Ice Pick Award for best mystery of the month? Well, the truth is, I wish I could pick one, or rather I wish I could pick just one. The simple fact is that these books are all excellent, so I can't in good conscience recommend one over the other. Take bag lunches to work, skip a movie or two, and buy all three; they're that good!


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