Defensive Wounds by Lisa Black, 2011

Read as an ARC in 2011

Synopsis:  In this fourth novel in Lisa Black’s captivating suspense series, forensic investigator Theresa MacLean finds herself embroiled in a case in which everyone has a motive and everyone is a suspect—especially when high-powered defense attorneys start turning up dead.

When Marie Corrigan, a Cleveland defense attorney with a history of falsifying evidence and no shortage of enemies, is found dead in the presidential suite at the Ritz-Carlton, most people would agree that she had it coming. Forensic investigator Theresa MacLean is summoned to the crime scene by her daughter, Rachel, who is working the front desk. But even before Theresa enters the room, she knows that she’s walking into a forensic nightmare—for crime scenes at hotels, even the most luxurious, are teeming with trace evidence that has been left behind by innumerable guests and may or may not be related to the murder. But what Theresa finds is even worse than she imagined.

Given the positioning of Marie’s body, everyone assumes the same thing—that it’s a lovers’ tryst turned lethal. But large questions remain: How did the killer gain access to the room without anyone’s knowledge? And has the scene been staged for their benefit? The little evidence Theresa has is conflicting at best. What’s more, a legal convention at the hotel provides an endless list of suspects—and potential victims.

When two more bodies show up in quick succession, each in a similar state, Theresa’s investigation takes on a whole new urgency as she fears they may have a serial killer on their hands—a serial killer with a vendetta. But as she searches for the threads that tie the cases together, Theresa begins to suspect that she and her daughter are closer to danger than they realize. And a mother will stop at nothing to protect the life of her child.

Although she’d come to my attention before, this was my first Lisa Black and unfortunately I won’t be coming back for more.  It wasn’t an awful book, I’m sure she has her fans, it’s just it wasn’t quite what I look for in a thriller of this type.  First of all it didn’t really thrill.  Theresa is whiny and overprotective all the time; the poor me schtick got old fast.  As did the mommy thing.  Rachael is 18 years old and is constantly referred to as a child.  I got an eye ache from all the rolling I did.  By the time she was in real danger it didn’t matter anymore; Black had already wrung as much emotion from that rag as she could.  All Theresa’s worrying and maneuvering blunted it prematurely.

Then there were the red herring suspects and surprises, neither of which were effective, at least not for this veteran thriller reader.  I did like the deduction used for each, minimal though it was.  The teamwork was also minimal though and none of the characters seemed to have any ease with each other.  The family and cousin thing was beaten to death, but not effective in creating a fluid working unit of the members.  Weird.

Last was the awkward language that kept leaping out at me and jerking me out of the story.  Starting on page 31 with someone’s (Neil’s?) muscles glimmering under his skin.  Really?  Glimmering?  What was he, transparent?  Then this whole paragraph on page 73; I still don’t know what the hell she’s trying to convey and why it’s important -

“Between the rows of overhead lights and the tiled walls and floors, washed down at the end of every day, the autopsy room was the brightest, cleanest room in the building.  (ok, that sentence isn’t so bad)  And, as the dieners could go home when the day’s cutting had been completed, whether that was sooner or later, the most efficient.  (Huh?  ugh..just ugh)  The assistants had no reason to lollygag and every reason not to.  (is there an echo in here?)  Plastic jars were labeled, flesh cut open, tables hosed down with the highest possible proficiency.”  (why do we need to know that?  Oh where was the editor?)

OMG what a mess.  Then there’s the one on page 290 that talks about the inside of lungs and inhaling black powder.  Like we’d think it would somehow end up on the outside of the lungs.  The last one I took note of was on page 329 where Theresa muses that she “didn’t know him that well and had never been able to read people like a book”.  Ig.  

Sorry Ms. Black, although most of your ballistic, ordinance and forensic details rang true, I just couldn’t get past these clunkers and Theresa’s worried mommy fetish.