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In FOR EDGAR, Sheldon Rusch introduced readers to two special individuals – a serial killer who goes around committing murders using the works of Edgar Allen Poe as his motif and the person who is going to stop him, Special Agent Elizabeth Taylor Hewitt. Through a lot of coincidences and happenstances, Agent Hewitt was able to crack the case unaware of the emotional toll it was going to take in her life. You would expect her to be a basket case after the shocking turnout from that novel. Apparently it was short-lived because by the start of her next book, THE BOY WITH PERFECT HANDS, she is back in action (in more ways than one) and now she is ready to get to work. This time she is investigating a serial killer whom, she will discover later, has a predilection for classical music and in particular a specific piece by composer Frederic Chopin. Are we getting something different with this book? Not this time. It is more of the same from his previous work and it is getting a little bit tiresome. Rusch took a risk in writing a novel that revolves around classical music. Some readers may be able to appreciate the allusions, but most people like myself have just a basic knowledge, if any, for this type of music. I had to hunt high and low to find and listen to Chopin's Nocturne in E-Flat just to get a feeling towards the killer The author uses short chapters, each designed to describe a single scene inside the book. It can be exasperating for some, but some readers might appreciate the slow pacing of the novel. Nor is the book well-organized. Points of view shift constantly in order to try to keep readers on their toes, but it annoys more than anything else. Hewitt might be good at what she does, regardless of how messed up her personal life is, but this book, just like in FOR EDGAR, relies too much on coincidence. I still don't know how she figured out the specific (emphasis on that word) way that music plays in each killing. She knows where she needs to go and what she needs to do to get the information that she needs with minimal effort to details. And don't get me started about her love life. That was something where the author always happened to find time to provide the fine points with Hewitt and her boyfriend. The way the book ends does not get any better. It is not until the last 80 or so pages that things start to click to explain circumstances in the book that just didn't make sense at first, including the book's title. However, this cheats the reader because there were too few clues (if any) as to the killer's identity. There is just no point in reading the book carefully in search of hints. You'll be disappointed. I wish I had better things to say about this work, but I just can't. That's two-for-two for me. I don't want to try for three.
Reviewed by Angel L. Soto, October 2006
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Contact: Yvonne Klein (ymk@reviewingtheevidence.com)
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