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Summary
Summary
It's a bloodthirsty town, Hollywood. No matter how popular you are, there's always someone who'd be happier if you were dead. And in some cases, you can be such a bastard,everyonewould be happier if you were dead. Barry Gerber, one of the most hated men in Hollywood, is a no-show for a red carpet event. The next morning he turns up dead, killed in such a bizarre way that neither Detectives Mike Lomax nor Terry Biggs nor anyone in Forensics has ever seen anything like it before. Two days later, the prime suspect -- another despised show-business bad boy -- is found murdered in the same sadistic manner. The list of suspects then becomes as long as the credits in a summer blockbuster. Everyone hated the murdered men. Biggs jokes that this could be an elaborate public service effort to make Hollywood a better place to live and work. But he and Lomax soon find that all jokes are off as they wade through a daunting number of leads to uncover who will be the next victim. What they stumble upon is a motive far more primal than they had ever imagined. Fast-paced, razor-sharp, and intensely funny,Bloodthirstyreunites Lomax and Biggs -- the mystery genre's new dynamic duo.
Author Notes
Marshall Karp is the bestselling author of the Lomax and Biggs series and co-author with James Patterson of the NYPD Red series and the novel Kill Me If You can.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (2)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Karp's second comic police thriller (after 2006's The Rabbit Factory), set in the glitzy world of Hollywood moguls and wannabes, is an uneven blend of gallows humor and gore. When mega-producer Barry Gerber turns up drained of blood in a trash can, LAPD detectives Mike Lomax and Terry Biggs, who had been hoping to enter a deal with the victim for a movie adaptation of one of their high-profile cases, are assigned to investigate. Their workload doubles when the A-list star of Gerber's last blockbuster, actor Damian Hedge, is abducted, apparently by the same person responsible for the producer's murder. Karp intersperses Lomax's snappy first-person narration with scenes from the criminal's perspective, eliminating most of the mystery and making the motive for the crimes obvious early on. Though brisk and cynical, this depiction of Tinseltown falls short of the standard set by Elmore Leonard's Get Shorty. (May) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Library Journal Review
Everyone in Hollywood seems to have a script or movie deal in the works, and LAPD detectives Mike Lomax and Terry Biggs are no exceptions. Unfortunately, their potential producer turns up dead, drained of blood and stuffed into a trash can, a tragedy that dashes their hopes of big bucks for a movie based on an earlier case (see last year's The Rabbit Factory). Then a major actor is killed by the same odd method. It becomes apparent that revenge is the motive as more bodies pile up and Lomax and Biggs frantically try to stem the tide. Karp, a former advertising executive, screenwriter, and playwright, keeps the jokes moving as fast as the action. The wisecracking banter between Lomax and Biggs, two- or three-page chapters, staccato sentences, and nonstop action leave little time for contemplation or character development, but as with Janet Evanovich's mysteries, we are swept up in the humor, the quirky characters, and the frenetic pace. Froth still can be fun. For larger public libraries.-Roland Person, Southern Illinois Univ. Lib., Carbondale (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
A team of detectives went to UCLA Medical Center and interviewed the man who owned the house where Barry was dumped. He was a prominent Lebanese cardiologist and not, as Sauer had suggested, an Arab terrorist. His wife was in Denver on business. According to his statement, he took the garbage out the night before, left for work before the truck arrived, and never noticed the extra can. "Did he know the victim?" Terry asked when I filled him in. "No. Never even heard of him." "I'd rule him out as a suspect, but it should at least be a misdemeanor to live in L.A. and not know all your major movie producers." By one o'clock we had wrapped up at the scene, stopped at a Taco Bell for a couple of Gordita Supremes, which I'm convinced kill more cops than bullets, and were back in the car on the way to see Barry Gerber's widow. "Take a look at this," Terry said, handing me the eight-by-ten glossy Otis Hairston had given him. "Melissa Little, the garbage man's wife." "She's white," I said. "And blond. And beautiful. And just look at her résumé. Besides the soap, she's done commercials for Budweiser, Honda, and Tampax. I actually remember her from the Budweiser ad." "You mean you don't watch Tampax commercials?" "Mike, my whole life is a Tampax commercial. I live with Marilyn and three teenage girls on the corner of Estrogen Avenue and Drama Queen Boulevard. Rebecca spent the entire month of April crying because some boy told her that her nose was too big. If the fucking house were burning down, Sarah would have to change her shoes at least five times before she could make a run for it. Emily is only fifteen and she wants to have a huge hunk of shrapnel installed in her belly button and a tattoo of the solar system on her butt. And Al Gore called to say that it has been confirmed by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration that Marilyn's hot flashes are the real cause of global warming." I was laughing hard now, but he didn't let up. "And I swear to God, Mike...I swear to God in heaven, that if I ever come home and find the toilet seat up, I will break down and weep. And then I'll take my gun and start firing into the closets, because you gotta know that one of those crazy hormonal women has to be hiding a man in there." I applauded. "That's good stuff. You should really do one of those open mic nights at a comedy club and try it out." "No. I'm still working on my material. I'm not ready to do stand-up in public. Even with just you and me in the car, I did it sitting down." Excerpted from Blood Thirsty by Marshall Karp All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
