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5�
“I was living like a jazz musician waiting for a gig. I was staying up late, staring at the walls and drinking too much red wine. I needed to either pawn my instrument or find a place to play it.
. . .
But over the weeks and months came the realization that one identity was greater, that it superseded the other. My mission remained intact. My job in this world, badge or no badge, was to stand for the dead.

Harry’s on his own � I mean, really on his own. He’s officially retired, sitting in his rebuilt house that was destroyed in the �94 LA earthquake, and he knows that as much as he enjoys taking saxophone lessons from Sugar Ray McK in the old fellow’s retirement home, he can’t shake being haunted by unsolved murders that demand justice.

One of the most memorable was Angella Benton, only 24 when she was found murdered, with her body seeming to plea for help.

�... they were directed upward from her head, as if she were reaching out to someone, almost beseechingly, begging for something. They looked like hands from a Renaissance painting, like the hands of the damned reaching heavenward for forgiveness. In my life I have worked almost a thousand homicides and no positioning of a fallen body ever gave me such pause.�

No badge, no authority, but plenty of connections. He did get his private investigator’s licence when he retired, which he says all retired cops seem to do � just in case. I can understand why. Even if they aren’t haunted, as Harry is, or bored, as others may be, somebody is bound to turn to them for help when they’ve got trouble.

The LAPD and the FBI are still creating sparks when they bump up against each other, and Harry still has an enduring suspicion of the tactics of FBI agents, but then he tends to suspect everyone. He is particularly wary of the FBI’s BAM team who carry out investigations By Any Means.

It’s not as if the FBI ever respected his badge much, but at least it gave him some protection. He had a department to back him up. Now, they can throw him in a secret cell on the ninth floor and throw away the key.

I like that he’s alone and vulnerable now but as determined as ever. He’s cleaned up his act, and is still like a schoolboy when it comes to his ex-wife, Eleanor, a former FBI agent who now has a good life making a profitable living in Las Vegas as a poker player. He makes excuses to fly to Vegas and drop in on her and try to find out more about her life, but she remains cagey, though friendly.

He’s very human, thoughtful, often fool-hardy, but smart. I don’t know when he sleeps and he seems to live on coffee. He is loyal, easily moved, and philosophical, but he is no pushover.

There is plenty of physical action and suspense. Nowhere is safe.

“When I opened the closet door I was suddenly shoved backwards with great force by a man who had been waiting in there for me�

He shoved the barrel in so deep under my jaw that I had to stop talking. The pain sent shards of red glass across my vision�

‘I’ve got your gun right here, Bosch. And I’m going to turn you into another suicide statistic if you don’t � � There was a sudden crashing sound from the hallway and I knew it was the front door coming in off its hinges.�

This is not a quiet investigation, but then his never are. I think if this happened to be the first book you picked up and you couldn’t find any earlier ones, you’d still enjoy the story. Connelly’s good at filling in enough blanks so that this stands on its own. And if you should read this first, it won’t spoil the earlier books for you. Each has its own complete crime and solution, while the characters grow and change.

I happened to watch an early part of the Bosch TV series that I assumed would start at the beginning of the books, but it included something from many years later in his life. I was surprised, but it didn’t spoil the stories I’m reading now as I catch up to that point.

Connelly is terrific, and at least Harry has a cellphone now, dear old-school investigator that he is.

Below are my reviews of the earlier Harry Bosch books.
(#1) My review of The Black Echo

(#2) My review of The Black Ice

(#3) My review of The Concrete Blonde

(#4) My review of The Last Coyote

(#5) My review of Trunk Music

(#6) My review of Angels Flight

(#7) My review of A Darkness More Than Night

(#8) City of Bones My review of City of Bones