Cutthroat Dogs by Loren D. Estleman

Published by Forge Books on January 4, 2022

I came late to Loren D. Estleman. If my application for a second life comes through, I’ll go back and read his Amos Walker series from the beginning. Estleman pushes all the buttons I look for in private detective fiction. Walker isn’t a brainless action hero. The novels move at a brisk pace, but Estleman doesn’t depend on shootouts and fistfights to carry the story. Walker spends most of his time solving puzzles by piecing together clues and getting a handle on ambiguous personalities.

Not that the novels are free of violence. Walker begins Cutthroat Dogs by shooting a bank robber in the leg. He’s arrested for his trouble. John Alderdyce, back from retirement in a new role as a consultant for the Detroit Police, gives Walker a pass for carrying a firearm into a bank. The gunplay gets Amos some good press that attracts a bunch of kooks and one paying client. Chrys Corbel wants Amos to look into her brother’s murder case. Dan Corbel has been in prison for almost twenty years.

Corbel was convicted of murdering April Goss, a woman he dated in college. April’s father, Chester Goss, used her death as the foundation for one of those horrid “true crime” television shows. Viewers phone in tips and Goss brags about how the show helps put away bad guys. Since ratings depend on a high capture rate, the show cherry-picks crimes that will probably be solvable with massive publicity.

I’ve never been a fan of shows that exploit a family member’s victimization to create wealth for the host. Estleman is savage in his depiction of Chester Gross as a greedy, self-aggrandizing, unfeeling hypocrite. Since most television hosts who style themselves as champions for crime victims fall into that category, I was pleased that Estleman took a well-deserved shot at them. Cutthroat Dogs scored points with me by suggesting that television hosts who position themselves as vigilante crime fighters might have more interest in their bank accounts than in justice for victims.

Amos is repeatedly targeted for murder as he investigates Dan Corbel’s conviction. The investigation also has unfortunate ramifications for Corbel, a fact that causes Amos to wonder whether he is doing more harm than good. Amos is, in fact, pursuing justice in his own way, not as a vigilante but as a man with a passion for the truth.

Amos gets unexpected help from Stan Kopernick, a cop who has alienated his boss by gambling on duty. Kopernick claims that earning favorable publicity by helping Amos (whether he proves or disproves Corbel’s guilt) will balance the most recent black mark on his record. Kopernick is such a loser that he’s almost likable.

Estleman is a master at telling a tight story. He doesn’t waste a word. His prose is smart and snappy. When Amos is surprised that a woman wants to drink her scotch neat, he thinks “It didn’t go with your outfit. She should have asked for something tall and green with a garden in it.”

Amos solves the case with legwork and close observation and a keen understanding of human nature — particularly the nature of sociopaths who have no human nature. The ending is remarkable. Estelman sets up a standard crime plot and turns it upside down. I don’t know if Estleman gets the same notice as best-selling crime fiction authors who have mastered the art of self-promotion, but he’s a writer who fans of the genre shouldn’t miss.

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