Twists, turns in ‘Echo Park’

AS we discover early in Michael Connelly’s 17th and newest novel, his series hero Harry Bosch, now a detective operating out of the LAPD’s Open-Unsolved unit, has been haunted by an unsolved case of his own since 1993. That’s when he was unable to unearth the fate of a missing young woman named Marie Gesto, a failing that has moved him to continue an unofficial on-and-off investigation ever since.

The 13-year-old cold file is no farther away than his elbow when he receives word that a serial predator known as Raynard Waits, arrested in Echo Park with the body parts of his most recent victims, has confessed to killing Gesto, among others, in a deal to avoid the death penalty. Suspicious of the confession and motives of a political district attorney and the self-serving detective heading the investigation, Bosch wants in on Waits’ interrogation.

When a friend suggests that because he takes his work so much to heart he may not want to engage in a sit-down with the killer, Bosch replies, “It’s still my case. And taking it straight to heart is the way of the true detective. The only way.”

What a remarkable thing for a modern-day fictional hero to say -- not just the near-quaint phraseology but the sentiment untainted by cynicism or irony. At a time when snarkiness and sarcasm are attitudes to be celebrated, Connelly continues to provide evidence that Bosch, unlike many of his sleuthing contemporaries, is a true believer.

There are a number of elements that make these novels such a pleasure to read. Clean prose, a smart blend of character and story, clever twists, bright flashes of suspense and surprising extras (prepare to learn a little about French folklore here). But one of the main reasons for Bosch’s popularity is that he’s the kind of guy who can spend time staring into the abyss and still take his cases “straight to heart.” He’s a hero who lives up to the designation.

Probably because of Connelly’s descriptions of Los Angeles (most of the activity takes place at the High Tower Apartments near the Hollywood Bowl, on wilderness trails in Beachwood Canyon and, not surprisingly, in and around Echo Park), the Bosch novels are frequently compared to Raymond Chandler’s cityscape-rich stories about private eye Philip Marlowe. But Marlowe took his cases to mind, not to heart. With rare exceptions (“The Long Goodbye” comes to mind), he worked them like the chess problems that occupied his at-home moments of sobriety. Bosch probably isn’t much of a chess player. He’s too emotional, too much a man of action and reaction. If there is a comparison to be made, it is to James Lee Burke’s bayou lawman Dave Robicheaux, who is engaged in a continual battle against the arrogance and greed of the powerful and for the rights of the helpless and disenfranchised. Both men have a ferocious belief in justice. Bosch has a bit more control over his temper; to my knowledge, he’s never dumped a pot of boiling gumbo over a wrongo. But like Robicheaux, he is inclined -- against the pleas and advice of friends and supervisors -- to offend whomever he wants and to do precisely what he wants.

These men of law see themselves as missionaries. Connelly often refers to Bosch’s work as a mission -- carrying, if not the word of God, the sword of justice to an unholy land. In “Echo Park,” his calling leads him where FBI agents and fellow cops fear to tread. While they hold fast, he steps forward empty-handed to a one-on-one confrontation with an armed and addled killer about to add another female victim to his list.

Bosch’s romantic interest complains that he’s too reckless. But when there’s a life to be saved, what else should she -- or we -- expect from a true detective who takes his cases straight to heart?

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Dick Lochte is the author of the novels “Sleeping Dog” and the forthcoming “Croaked!”