Los Angeles Times
A perceptive profile of intra-police relations.
New York Times
A thoughtful, discreetly told tale about the abuses of power.
Publishers Weekly
Somewhere between the seedy streets of George P. Pelecanos and the upscale enclaves of such Old Guard novelists as Ward Just lies the Washington, D.C., patrolled by Frank Kearney and Jos Phelps, the veteran homicide detectives introduced in Andrews's memorable A Murder of Honor (2001) and now brought back for a second, equally excellent outing. As before, it's Kearney the erudite son of a judge and a Vietnam vet whose nights are still occasionally haunted by visions of that war who gets the most ink, while his heftier African-American partner seems defined more by his physical attributes and more amusing habits. When Pulitzer Prize-winning Washington Post reporter Mary Keegan is found hacked to death in a Georgetown park, the last thing their supremely political homicide commander wants to hear is that it might be the work of a serial killer. So Kearney and Phelps dig into the subjects of a book about fathers and sons that Keegan was working on: a legendary Kennedy-era diplomat and his less flashy bureaucratic offspring; and a smooth, supposedly retired black drug lord and his straight-arrow son. Keegan's brother, an Irishman with a political agenda, also bears some looking into, as well as a sharply sketched Internet entrepreneur whose signature online game might provide a clue. The author of four thrillers (Last Spy Out, etc.) before he turned to police procedurals, Andrews has drawn once again on his insider's knowledge of Washington to produce a first-rate entertainment. Agent, Robin Rue. (Mar. 4) Forecast: With blurbs from Robert B. Parker and George Pelecanos, as well as his Washington connections (he was once a national security advisor to a senior U.S. senator), Andrews is well positioned to build this series into a winner. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
Washington, DC, police detectives Frank Kearney and Jose Phelps are assigned to investigate the murder of Mary Keegan, a prize-winning reporter found knifed to death in a DC park. The experienced officers link the case to another brutal slaying with striking similarities. Through their investigation, we pick up tidbits of information on newspaper reporting, Washington politics, police procedure, computer crime, and drug dealing. This makes for a plot with lots of interesting elements; the description of the DC area is also entertaining. The characters, drawn from the same spheres, are intriguing; unfortunately, with the exception of Frank and Jose, they are a bit flat, and because there are some loose ends in the plot, the book lacks a certain spark. David Daoust gives an adequate but uninspired performance. Recommended for collections where mystery and police procedurals are popular.-Christine Valentine, Davenport Univ., Kalamazoo, MI Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Some D.C. murders have no leads; Frank Kearney's and Jose Phelps's latest just might have too many. The victim, investigative journalist Mary Keegan, had in her day ruffled feathers from Moscow to Tashkent to Capitol Hill. Her latest project-a book on famous sons of famous fathers-profiles not only Kennedy-era Secretary of State Charles Trevor and his undersecretary son David, but real estate mogul John Sheffield and his druglord dad Lamar. But the 20-year partners zero in on one striking clue: the corpse's severed pinky. It's all too similar to the missing digit in a case two deadbeat colleagues, Henry (Cold Case) Coleman and Leon Janowitz, have back-burnered: the stabbing in Rock Creek Park of Susan Boukedes, senior American employee at the Greek embassy. By linking the two cases, Kearney and Phelps (A Murder of Honor, 2000) uncover a trail of cyberstalking through the women's Internet provider, LORE.COM, a New Age startup that runs online games based on Arthurian legend. When the media, led by talking-head Hugh Worsham, learn of the Keegan-Boukedes connection, their cry of "serial killer" sends Kearney's and Phelps's risk-aversive boss, Randolph Emerson, into the stratosphere. But Kearney and Phelps are worried about more than bad press; they know that a real serial killer won't stop till he's caught. Almost a grand slam, but Andrews trumps his own ace, trashing his own careful clueing by pushing his climax for one jolt too many.