Thursday night found us on a panel of literary fringe persons seated on a stage in an auditorium where one of the Wolfe cubs used sweetly to sing when the building was a useful if rather unloved school rather than a Cultural (and Arts!) Center. Our companions in the lineup all had more elevated tastes than we do, so it was a fairly shaming experience and when it was all over we carefully slid down Vine Street in the surprise snowfall, cursing Norm for failing to keep us out of such entanglements. To comfort ourself we circled six times on a bed of leaves, trampling a bed into shape, and curled up with Suspect the latest crime fiction from the exceptionally fine crimewriter Robert Crais. When we found that one of the main characters was a wounded canine Iraqui veteran we whimpered in pleasure. We love dogs. We love crime books. We are too old to elevate our tastes. Constant readers know that our pantheon includes Albert Payson Terhune.
An equally wounded LA cop shares the plot with the plucky Alsatian, and it will come as no surprise to learn that the two find ways to help each other recover from their trauma. We thought this was Crais at his best.