Counting to Infinity by J. L. Abramo

From the Publisher

San Francisco private investigator Jake Diamond is known for his stained neckties and stash of sour-mash whiskey; but Jake is more likely to be toting a worn paperback Classic novel than a handgun. More over-easy than hard-boiled, Diamond can be beaten up and knocked around without taking it too personally; but when his friends and loved ones are threatened, it's a different story.

When a Chicago thug known as Ralph Battle bursts into the office of Diamond Investigation waving a 44 magnum at Diamond and his trusty assistant, Jake has the distinct feeling that missing his lunch of fried calamari may not be the worst of his problems.

Jake accompanies Battle to Chicago at the mandatory request of Max Lansdale, a mob-connected attorney, who asks Jake to search for a pair of ghosts and will not take no for an answer. Pushed to the edge, Jake is ready to put his rusty .38 to use to get Lansdale off his back. Running between San Francisco, Chicago and Los Angeles, Diamond tries to stay one step ahead of the man who will have Jake killed with no remorse as soon as Diamond proves useless.

With the help of Joey Russo and a team of Jake's familiar cohorts, including Vinnie "Strings" Stradivarius, Darlene Roman and Sonny "The Chin" Badalamenti, Jake may be saved from becoming a murderer himself. May be. Trying to escape the wildest ride of his life; Jake is counting on luck, counting on a group of unlikely heroes, and counting to infinity.

Publishers Weekly

PI Jake Diamond, abetted by his Girl Friday, Darlene, sleuths back and forth between San Francisco, Chicago and L.A. in his third outing (after 2003's Clutching at Straws), a convoluted but routine mystery involving a decades-old crime and Mafia vendetta lists. After a nice opening line, parodying classic hard-boiled detective fiction-"The scent of deep-fried calamari floated in through my office window like an invitation to triple-bypass surgery"-Abramo soon loses narrative focus. The witty remarks (e.g., "If you want someone who can't ask a good question, get Larry King") simply disappear, and the tone grows serious. As the plan to topple the bad guy plays out, the first-person Chandleresque burlesque is dropped in favor of a detached third-person account more like a thriller novel. Fans of Mafiosi fiction should be the most satisfied. (Aug. 20) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

A macho San Francisco p.i. quips his way in and out of trouble. Chicago lawyer Max Lansdale sends beefy Ralph Battle to Jake Diamond's office to make him an offer he can't refuse: visit the Windy City or risk the lives of his dishy ex-wife Sally and his smart-mouthed secretary Darlene. Max, who's run through every other shamus in Frisco, including Jake's late mentor Jimmy Pigeon, wants Jake to find Harry Chandler, a private eye who supposedly died six years ago in a shootout with the cops but was recently sighted by California gumshoe Stan Riddle. As Max tells it, Chandler killed his mob-connected brother Randolph. The real story, of course, is somewhat different, its truth locked in the memory of the elusive Joe Clams, now gone to ground while Jake tails leads as far away as Mexico. A couple of shamuses die, poor Sally is blown away, and Jake's sidelined by a telephone bomb. And it's up to Jake's connected pals Russo and Romano, along with Boyle, the cop who caught the original case, and sassy Darlene to execute a complex sting that will leave Max seriously short of millions and on the outs with his mama, still a power in a major crime family. More Runyon than Hammett, with bullets racing wisecracks, the best courtesy of Darlene: "If they can send a man to the moon, why can't they send them all there?"

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