“I’m not on trial. San Francisco is.”
An accused murderer called Kingfisher is about to go on trial for his life. Or is he? By unleashing unexpected violence on the lawyers, jurors, and police involved in the case, he has paralyzed the city. Detective Lindsay Boxer and the Women’s Murder Club are caught in the eye of the storm.
Now comes a courtroom shocker you will never see coming.
It’s no secret that I have been annoyed by the path of The Women’s Murder Club. I suppose you could say it started when Lindsay chose Joe over Conklin. Truth is, though I was never a fan of Joe’s, I just hated how quickly Lindsay became all consumed with her love life. It took away from the plots and it took away from Lindsay’s friends, who were suppose to be a large part of this series and have begun to disappear to the sidelines over the past few books.
This particular book does very little to raise my opinion of where the series is going. Though it’s not as hyper-focused on Joe and his philandering, lying self. It spends too many precious pages with Lindsay curling up with her kid or dreaming about him. I thought maybe the BookShots idea would work for this series, as it seems to have done for Zoo. But in truth, it just didn’t quite work out for this book either.
For such a major bad guy, this kind of short book is just insulting. This is supposed to be THE big bad in this series and yet, even most of the plot has little to do with him or anything he’s actually doing. And San Francisco is on trial? It seems to me the only ones on trial are those who are trying to prosecute Kingfisher. And what’s worst? I called who was behind everything the second the character was actively on the pages. What sadder, is that even though it wasn’t a great book, it’s still better than the last book of this series, because I didn’t have to listen to all of the whining about Joe. I just wish the books would get to being about the women’s murder club and not about Lindsay’s failing love life.