(pb; 1984: second book in the Lloyd Hopkins/L.A. Noir trilogy)
From the back cover
“A botched liquor store heist
leaves three grisly dead. A hero cop is missing. Nobody could see a pattern in
these two stray bits of information—no one except Detective Sergeant Lloyd
Hopkins, a brilliant and disturbed L.A. cop with an obsessive desire to protect
the innocent. To him they lead to one horrifying conclusion—a killer is on the
loose and preying on his city. From the master of L.A. noir comes this
beautiful and brutal tale of a cop and a master criminal squared off in a
demented death match.”
Review
This edited review was originally published on this site on October 4, 2006. That review has since been deleted.
Set shortly after the events of Blood on the Moon, Hopkins begins investigating the disappearance of a decorated (later unfairly disgraced) cop, Jacob “Jungle Jack” Herzog, whose secret, questionable affiliations lead Hopkins to a psychiatrist and cult leader (Dr. John “The Night Tripper” Havilland) whose followers are committing seemingly crazy murders at his behest. It’s mano a mano time as the two driven juggernauts clash in an increasingly intense who’s-crazier-than-the-other showdown. Caught between them is Linda Wilhite, a former patient and Hopkins’s lover, her life—of course—on the immediate line.
Because, with its fully fleshed key characters, excellent pacing and edgy-like-Blood tone, shows Hopkins acting in a slightly more reasonable capacity, his Blood troubles in his rearview mirror. He still hopes to get his wife (Janice) and two daughters (Penny, aka “Penguin,” and Caroline) back, but he more balanced, even as he and Havilland hurl toward each other like explosive-carrying trains. Excellent, character-progressive sequel, this, followed by Suicide Hill.
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