I was seven for seven this week. Among them a very good David Handler. (For all who are nostalgic for the 80s, check out his Stewart Hoag mysteries.) And a lovely little fluff --chick lit-- called Seeing Me Naked.
My favorite, however, was a period mystery called Scarlet Women by pseudonymous J.D. Christilian.
The story features a taciturn and mysterious private detective in 1870s Manhattan. The flux of the city and its inhabitants is palpable throughout the book. The vice and corruption of Tammany Hall are an integral part of the story. And, while I did figure it out in the end, it was within a paragraph of investigator Harp's same conclusion.
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