“The city has surrendered to a
heat wave in July 1956. When detective Mike Reardon is on the way to work on
the nightshift, he is murdered from behind with a .45 caliber handgun. As Steve
Carella and his colleagues from the 87th Precinct are looking for their
friend's killer, they have no idea that this is just the beginning of a series
of police murders. David Foster is the next victim, at the entrance of his
apartment, where the killer has left behind a footprint at the crime scene.
Steve Carella and Hank Bush question the family and wives of the deceased, as
well as some suspects, but to no avail. A few nights later the unknown killer
ambushes and murders Det. Hank Bush. Bush fought back however and shot and
wounded the murderer. Steve Carella fears he will be the next target if he
fails to stop him.”
The first 87th Precinct novel was groundbreaking when published in 1956 and while McBain (born Salvatore Albert Lombino in 1926, he legally changed his name to Evan Hunter in May 1952, after an editor told him that a novel he wrote would sell more copies if credited to Evan Hunter than to S. A. Lombino. Thereafter, he used the name Evan Hunter both personally and professionally) wrote a total 55 novels set there between ’56 and his passing in 2005, his writing influenced many writers of the era and those on the rise (Lawrence Block, Donald E. Westlake and even Stephen King). It’s a gritty, lean tale long before the word “procedural” had entered the lexicon. While I’m not a huge fan of this sub-genre of mysteries, I found myself enjoying the book –though I admit now I was surprised how much ground the book covered and was just easier to read (unlike the bulk of today’s procedurals, like the last book I read, The Grave Tattoo by Val McDermid).
The book
holds up pretty well for a sixty-eight year-old release (and while my TBR pile
continues to grow, I procured this book from The Friends of the Library section
located in Culver City Julian Dixon Library for .50 and felt for that
cheap a price and 236 page count, I could easily digest it), and it’s
interesting to learn about an era of police work that
depended more on looking at file cards of recently released felons or getting
fingerprint results back from the FBI via special delivery, than what we see on
TV today. So there is no tricks here, and if you look carefully, you can spot
who is responsible for the murders (a dubious long game, and a little bit odd).
While
the book is a bit unsentimental and harsh, there are some funny bits here and
there. The relationships of the cops, how they work together, how things are
tough for everyone, how they work with such evil but sometimes find the humor
in the darkness is the high point for me.
Still, not saying I would commit to reading the other 54 books in this series. But you never know, I guess. You never know.
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