This novel starts with a twist: The Gardaí (Irish cops) have their mad, blood-soaked killer; they just have to sort out whom he killed. The ensuing tale is told mainly via crusty detective Henry Synott. With crime novels, you can usually be satisfied if a couple of things go right, but here the author does everything well. He conveys beautifully the rituals of cops and their quarry, while evoking the feel of a city where new yuppie affluence rubs up against the remnants of a seedy, savage past.