Some people, especially at the top, think Pharoah is one of the best homicide detectives on the New York City police force. Others think he’s too flamboyant to be a good cop, but he manages to give a much harder time than he gets. At any rate, he’s loaded with cases: one is a series of hits on Mafia henchmen who work for a well-known hood, another of Pharoah’s childhood friends (two victims die of poisoned pizza). In a crime that hints of incest, a teen tap-dancing act, the Cicci Twins, are gang-raped, then killed. In the most interesting case, Pharoah looks for the son of a wealthy woman. Are these cases connected – and if so, how?
Don’t expect brilliant writing from Baxt. His attempts at humor tend to fall flat, but the charm here is Pharoah himself, who solves his cases by schmoozing more than by heavy-handed investigating. Pharoah was the first American gay detective character; Baxt wrote three other Pharoah novels, the last more than 20 years ago. Fortunately, he’s brought Pharoah back.
