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Final Round by William Bernhardt Recommendation: •
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Not Par Some of William Bernhardt’s previous mystery novels (ones with “Justice” in the title) provided the perfect recipe: interesting characters; slow unveiling of clues; a realistic plot; tension among characters. Those previous novels, set in Oklahoma, became comfortable and readable. For whatever reason, Bernhardt left town and landed at the Masters in Augusta, Georgia with his new novel Final Round. Bernhardt should go back home. Even golf lovers will be disappointed with his depiction of the traditions and behaviors of this classic event. Mystery fans and Bernhardt fans will also feel that this work doesn’t shine with his usual skill. Here’s an excerpt where Bernhardt tries (and fails) to capture dialect and create realistic dialogue for these poorly developed characters: “As soon as he could escape the morgue, Conner hitched a ride back to the Augusta National, where Fitz was anxiously awaiting him at the first tee. He still couldn’t believe he was actually going to play golf, after all that had happened. It didn’t seem right, even after everything Jodie had said, and all he had promised her. On the other hand, given the most recent developments, he was lucky he wasn’t in prison. And playing golf was definitely preferable to prison. For once, Fitz didn’t appear to be in his attack-dog mode, perhaps because he knew where Conner had been and what he must have been through. ‘How was it?’ he said, not quite looking Conner in the eye. ‘’Bout like you’d expect,’ Conner replied. He preferred to avoid details that he’d rather forget. ‘Learn anything?’ ‘Not really.’ Conner paused. ‘Well, one thing. I’m pretty certain John’s killer must be someone here at the tournament.’ Fitz nodded. ‘Stands to reason.’ He laid a hand on Conner’s shoulder. ‘Think you can play golf?’ ‘Think I’d better.’ Conner shook himself, trying to rouse himself out of his stupor. ‘Don’t want to disappoint my groupies.’ Fitz led Conner toward the first tee-off, where he already had Conner’s clubs ready to play. Once again, Conner had been paired with Barry and Ace, but today Harry Tuttle joined their little group as well. ‘Big crowd, isn’t it?’ Harley said, gazing at the large collection of fans gathered behind the ropes beside the first tee. ‘Yeah,’ Conner agreed. ‘Biggest I’ve seen in a long while.’ He would’ve liked to have believed the legions were gathered to see him play, but a quick reality check told him they were more likely assembled to observe Ace. ‘That bother you?’ Harley shrugged. ‘I don’t much like razzmatazz. I usually try to stay away from the superstars. All this attention blows things out of proportion. You know what my daddy used to say?’ ‘I have a hunch I’m about to.’ ‘You can’t hang pumpkins on a morning glory.’ Conner nodded thoughtfully. ‘Harley, what the hell does that mean?’ ‘Beats me. Guess I should’ve asked daddy.’” There is murder in this mystery, and something of a plot. I was glad to reach the end of Final Round, and hope that Bernhardt quits his roaming around and returns to Oklahoma and his justice series. Steve Hopkins, April 3, 2002
ã 2002 Hopkins and Company, LLC The recommendation rating for this book appeared in the May 2002 issue of Executive Times Hopkins & Company, LLC • 723 North Kenilworth Avenue • Oak Park, IL 60302 Phone: 708-466-4650 • Fax: 708-386-8687 E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com www.hopkinsandcompany.com