Published by Atlantic Monthly Press on June 11, 2024
Some of my favorite crime writers have a greater interest in the supernatural than I do. James Lee Burke is one of those. I suppose monstrous crimes can be seen as the product of evil and evil can be seen as the realm of the supernatural. A disembodied force of evil has symbolic value for writers who confront crimes that are beyond ordinary experience. But the supernatural in Clete takes the form of a good person rather than an embodiment of evil.
Clete is narrated by Dave Robicheaux’s best friend, Clete Purcel. At various times in the novel, Clete gets advice from the ghost of Joan of Arc, or maybe Ingrid Bergman playing that character. Either way, she occasionally materializes and saves Clete’s life or cautions him not to be a fool. Clete has engaged in foolish behavior throughout his life, but now he’s sober and dedicated to helping others in his work as a private investigator. If Joan of Arc wants to help him, who am I to say that Clete is the victim of an overactive imagination?
The plot follows multiple threads. They are joined by Clete’s Cadillac. Clete leaves it at a car wash. When he returns, he finds that some thugs from the Dixie Mafia are taking it apart. After dealing with the thugs, he discovers that they were searching for something that they believe to have been concealed in his car. One theory is that the car wash owner, Eddy Durbin, let his brother Andy use the car to mule some drugs from Mexico. Clete later learns that the hidden object may be something different from the black tar heroin or fentanyl that is prevalent in Louisiana.
The nature of the substance supposedly hidden in Clete’s car is a bit vague. At one point Clete is made to believe that his exposure to the hidden substance might be fatal. The threat posed by the “lethal chemical called Leprechaun” enters and leaves the story at random intervals, never taking a firm hold. An FBI agent who seems to be looking for Leprechaun similarly makes occasional appearances without adding much to the story.
Clete connects the destruction of his car to a Nazi named Baylor Hemmings. Clete carries a picture of a Holocaust victim and her children, apparently to remind himself of how evil the world can be. Clete’s occasional references to the picture seem forced. They never resonate with the power that Burke likely intended. Of the thousands of Holocaust images, what it is about this particular picture that has gripped Clete is never made clear.
In his search for Hemmings, Clete questions a bail bondsman named Sperm-O Sellars, whose sideline is described as white slavery. Clete and Robicheau rescue a captive woman named Chen whose passivity has been assured by keeping her high on heroin. They’ll eventually need to rescue her again.
Sperm-O made the mistake of grabbing the ankle of Gracie Lamar, a dancer at a strip club who kicked his teeth in. Sperm-O hires Clete to find her after she jumps bail. Gracie turns out to be an ex-cop who got fired for unorthodox conduct that included killing some men who, in Clete’s judgment, probably deserved their fate.
All of that somehow ties into a plot thread involving Lauren Bow, a con man who made a fortune selling soap franchises, a Ponzi scheme that has gotten him into tax trouble with the IRS. His wife, Clara Bow, wants to hire Clete. She says she intends to divorce her abusive husband and claims he is blackmailing her with forged evidence that she was a participant in his tax fraud. Clete is a protector of abused women and so, against his better judgment, agrees to help her.
Bodies begin to drop. Clete and Robicheaux become targets, perhaps because Clete took his car to the wrong car wash, perhaps because they are questioning dangerous people.
In addition to Joan of Arc, another character seems to be related to the supernatural. When he dies, his body decomposes at a startling rate and with an unusually putrid stench. I can’t say that I understand how that character fits into the larger plot. But then, I can't understand why Joan of Arc has taken an interest in Clete Purcel.
The plot seems more of a muddle than is customary with a James Lee Burke novel. It is nevertheless interesting and moves at a satisfying pace, not so quickly that it overlooks the need to build atmosphere and suspense, not so slowly that the reader’s mind begins to wander. As always, I admire Burke’s prose. He’s simply one of the best wordsmiths in the crime writing business. In Clete, however, he tends to express the same ideas redundantly.
Burke didn’t sell me on the Leprechaun plot or on Joan of Arc, but his action scenes are credible and the characters of Dave Robicheaux and Clete Purcel have become iconic in the world of crime fiction. I always look forward to reading about their adventures. The different perspective here, seeing Dave through Clete’s eyes, adds another window through which the reader can view their enduring friendship. If this isn’t the best of the Robicheaux novels, it is still better than the average thriller writer can produce.
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