This is the fifth appearance in this slot by Richard Helms, and the third in for this series.
I recently wrote about the ambiguity of some subgenres. It occurs to me that I would not like to be on the Shamus Awards committee that has to decide whether this is a private eye story.
The narrator is definitely not a P.I. Boy Boatwright is a cop. But he is really playing a reluctant Watson to Bowie Crapster. The Crapster (wonderful name) is not a P.I. either. He makes his living as a psychic and part of his shtick is using his alleged magical powers to solve crimes. Does that qualify? Beats me.
Boy and Bowie don't get along too well. Witness this piece of phone conversation.
"There's been a murder."
"Please tell me you're the victim."
Ha ha. Actually a woman has been slain at a winery during a fundraising party full of the rich and influential. And since Crapster is a friend of the wealthy host/winemaker Boy has to tread lightly.
Helms is juggling a lot of balls in this story. He has to tell a coherent story, provide clues, and allow Boy to figure out a non-psychic explanation for Crapster's apparently mystical solution. It's a lot of fun.
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