Mark Timlin is a British author best known for his series of novels featuring Nick Sharman, a former Metropolitan Police officer who takes up the profession of private investigator in South London. He is also a renowned book reviewer and literary commentator. His most recent work is REAP THE WHIRLWIND. In his early years he did various jobs including work as a member of the road crew for THE WHO, including working backstage at Woodstock in the 1960s on the lighting cranes
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Who is Scott Phillips, and why haven’t I read any of his novels? Well I know now, and after reading That Left Turn at Albuquerque, count me in as a big fan.
Douglas Rigby is a Los Angeles attorney in trouble with.....Well, with about everybody. Money trouble that is, although on the outside, he, and his family look rich and successful, on the inside their house is about to be repossessed, and his cards are close to maxing out. Still, everyone makes mistakes. His latest was to borrow two-hundred-thousand dollars from the estate of an old man, a one time top producer from the golden age of TV. Westerns, cop shows, medical dramas etc. You know what I’m talking about. The old man is about to croak, and someone, somewhere is going to ask where the cash is, before calling the cops. Rigby, you see doesn’t fancy a spell in the pen. Who knows what old acquaintance he might meet there?
He used the dough to fund a cocaine deal with a biker gang, trusting a young, crank- headed gang banger with the intellect of a fire plug to complete the transaction. Bad idea. The gang banger lost the dosh and the dope. Now he’s after Rigby for his cut, threatening death or worse.
Rigby is immoral, amoral, and would fuck a rat up a drainpipe. I loved him. Actually, every character, except possibly a young Latino priest who Rigby goes to confess most of his crimes, are pretty much the same. Or extremely stupid. Or all four.
TLTAA rocks along like a supercharged V8 Dodge Charger, sometimes grim, sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, but always compulsive reading, until the end, which is as noirish as it is unpredictable. Nuff said?
