A Tale That Gives Credulity a Brisk Workout

In James Patterson’s new thriller, with the inappropriately whimsical title “Pop Goes the Weasel” (Little, Brown, $26.95, 423 pages), we learn very early on that the serial killer whom police detective-profiler Alex Cross calls “The Weasel,” has a somewhat more pretentious nickname for himself. He’s “Death,” one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. He and the other three horsemen, all late of Britain’s MI6 and past masters of the art of “wet work,” are playing an international murder game. One would think that Patterson may have bitten off too much for even a superior human being like Cross to handle, pitting him against four international killers. But evidently he decided that Weasel-Death was enough of an opponent, so the other three take a relatively minor role in the proceedings.

Weasel-Death does a lot of huffing and puffing, but he’s not very terrifying, not very believable and not very interesting. The same is true of the book. There are none of the clever deceptions employed by other serial killer specialists like Jeffrey Deaver or Patricia Cornwell. Nor is there the anticipated display of the detective’s skill at piecing bits of the puzzle together. Cross is too busy being the most romantic guy on the planet and the best father and the most honorable cop. He doesn’t have time to solve cases. Patterson introduces an ambitious policewoman who does the sleuthing. Things pick up a little when Weasel-Death goes on trial and eventually sells his story to the Bertelsmann publishing group (one of the book’s only genuinely amusing touches). But then Patterson puts us through at least one or two more hunts and chases and, finally, leaves readers with an ending that’s happy but not without the hint of menace to come. Oh, wait. I just got it. It’s a weasel ending.

*

Last year, L.A. Times reporter Barry Siegel made his fiction debut with “The Perfect Witness,” a cleverly crafted legal thriller that introduced the shrewd but not infallible defense attorney Greg Monarch. Simultaneously, he also created a memorable Central California town, La Graciosa, so rich in history and local lore you’d swear you could find it on the map. In his new sequel, “Actual Innocence” (Ballantine, $24.95, 280 pages), Siegel sends Monarch just a few miles away from home, into the equally well-defined El Nido Valley, a purposely sheltered community where Sarah Trant, an old flame, is on death row. In six short months she’ll be executed for cutting the throat of a turncoat environmentalist who’d helped would-be despoilers of the primeval countryside. She has requested that Monarch assist her in preparing a petition that might overturn her conviction, but he’s not sure he will. His last memory of her is one in which she tried to slaughter a dog with a knife during a psychotic break.

Monarch quickly discovers, however, that her trial was severely compromised. As he digs deeper into the murder, the elite of the town grow more and more nervous and dangerous. In this tour de force, Siegel turns that time-honored pulp fiction favorite, the Small-Town-With-a-Nasty-Secret plot device, into a powerful contemporary tale, enriched by surprising examples of how the law works and how it fails.

*

Edward Dee’s “Nightbird” (Warner, $23.95, 293 pages), like three previous novels in his series featuring seasoned NYPD detectives Anthony Ryan and Joe Gregory, was written in a New York state of mind. The author, who spent 20 years as a cop in that city, clearly knows the territory, both figuratively and literally. The new book focuses on the Times Square theater district, the location of the death of a young actress. Ryan and Gregory have just called it quits for the night when they see the woman’s body falling from the penthouse apartment of a co-op. In the past, the wiser, steadier Ryan has had to rein in the more exuberant Gregory. But Ryan’s beloved son has died not long ago in a hang-gliding accident, and the sight of the actress’ crumpled form sends him reeling. When the chief of police demands the book be closed on the apparent suicide (the mayor “is getting worried calls from the Mouse in Hollywood”; Disney, it seems, is “worried about bad publicity for the new Shangri-la on 42nd Street”), Ryan ignores the order and begins an investigation without even informing his partner.

This allows Dee to expand on the procedural format of his earlier work. There are still the entertaining cop war stories and sharp dialogue (“You know what writers are in this town? Writers are actors who’re too lazy to work in a restaurant”), the vivid descriptions of New York neighborhoods and the deft portraits of their inhabitants. But by sending a vulnerable Ryan off on a personal quest, Dee ups the ante on the suspense element. There’s a harrowing close-quarters, bone-breaking fight in a studio apartment and a slam-bang finale with a battered Ryan chasing a physically superior murderer into the Hell Gate Channel, while the rest of the force descends upon the location in a full-out “hats and bats” show of strength.

The Times reviews mysteries every other week. Next week: Rochelle O’ Gorman on audio books.