It is astonishing how much McBain's writing style changed, and how quickly, over the course of the 87th Precinct series. Because this reads nothing like any of the other books. Dialogue is clunky and abrupt, the plot has 12 kinds of loose ends floating about, and the location's kind of shoe-horned in at strange angles.

I've been reading this series since I was like, nine years old, a small and morbid child reliably let loose in the public library once a week, to drag home as many books as I could carry. I recently sat down and tried to figure out exactly how much of this series I've read (yes, I keep records; have since 8th grade), and it turns out: a lot. Except this first one.

That has now been rectified.