VIVIANA VALENTINE AND THE TICKING CLOCK

The dawn of 1951 presents a long list of cases for Edwards’ heroine, now the partner and fiancee of Hell’s Kitchen shamus Tommy Fortuna.

The thing is, Tommy and Viv’s clients are cagier than most suspected criminals. The first of them, Floristan, asks the pair to recover a missing item he refuses to identify and shows them what he considers a ransom note that’s written in cipher. Bowen, an investment banker, won’t say exactly why he’s concerned about the disappearance of Trevor Penhaligon, a cog in the wheel of Keller Bachmann Investments. Morty Lobel, an old pal of Tommy’s, wants Fortuna and Valentine to shadow Rachel Blum, his bride-to-be, because she’s changed in some indeterminate way he can’t put his finger on. Given a caseload like this, with clients as enigmatic as the puzzles they bring to the sleuths, it’s no wonder that Viv and Tommy have little time or energy to devote to the mystery of the dying man they found on the sidewalk west of Times Square in the closing minutes of New Year’s Eve. Whoever the victim was—the person who stabbed him to death seems to have lifted his identification—his dying words, “Tell Frankie…it’s okay,” pose still another riddle. The solutions to most of these mysteries are instantly forgettable, and the title promises more suspense than Edwards delivers, but the sharpness and warmth of Viv’s lively patter and the evocation of postwar New York will stick with you much longer.

Perfect for anyone who longs for a return to the days when “violent crimes are rarely committed against strangers.”