Trunk Music

Starred review from February 2, 1997
From the opening bars, when the body of Tony Aliso is pulled from the trunk of his Rolls Royce Silver Cloud on Mulholland Drive, to the final grace note on a Hawaiian beach, Connelly has crafted a jazzy, funky, roller coaster of a book. The return of maverick L.A. homicide detective Hieronymous (Harry) Bosch (from 1995's The Last Coyote) is cause for rejoicing. The Aliso murder quickly embroils Bosch and his new team (Kizmin Rider, a young black female officer on the rise in the department; veteran Jerry Edgar; and their boss, Lieutenant Grace Billets) in a Byzantine tangle of Las Vegas mob money, Hollywood filmmaking and police politics. The plot rushes headlong into deadends and deadfalls, repeatedly reorients and tears off in a new direction. Never known for tact, the single-minded Bosch is soon hotfooting through an acronymic snakepit: the LAPD's OCID (Organized Crime Investigation Division); the IAD (Internal Affairs Division); the LVPD's OCU (Las Vegas Police Department's Organized Crime Unit); the FBI. Not only does each organization claim a piece of the action, but each also wants a piece of Bosch. Connelly has it all working together here: skillful dialogue, solid plotting, nuances of race and status and a pace that will leave readers gasping to keep up. Connelly's early promise (The Black Echo earned him the 1993 Edgar for best first novel) has been borne out nicely by succeeding novels. Trunk Music is his best yet. $400,000 ad/promo; author tour.

October 15, 1996
Homicide dick Harry Bosch investigates the murder of a Hollywood producer in this latest from the author of the Edgar Award-winning The Black Echo (LJ 1/92).

October 1, 1996
LAPD Detective Harry Bosch is back from an "involuntary stress leave," and his first case is what Detroit wiseguys call trunk music: two .22 caliber bullets in the skull of schlock movie producer Tony Aliso, with Aliso's body stuffed in the trunk of his white Rolls. The murder shouts Mob, but LAPD's organized-crime unit expresses disinterest. So Harry and his two young partners follow a trail of laundered money to Las Vegas and what appears to be a sure conviction. But Harry's perp turns out to be an undercover FBI agent with an ironclad alibi. In short order, he's up against the Feebs, LAPD's organized crime unit, a junkyard-dog Internal Affairs investigator, the real killers, Las Vegas hoodlums, bad cops, and the possible involvement of a woman he once loved and lost. Connelly, a former journalist on the crime beat, has taken traditional motifs from crime, cop, private-eye, mystery, and noir novels and created a terrific read. Harry is a Chandlerian knight errant: tough, shrewd, and principled enough to pursue the truth despite formidable opposition. Offering a sultry femme fatale, plenty of seamy and sordid--albeit palm-lined--mean streets, and half a school of red herrings, this atmospheric novel is truly one of the year's best entertainments. ((Reviewed Oct. 1, 1996))(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 1996, American Library Association.)