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Executive Times |
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2007 Book Reviews |
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Spare
Change by Robert B. Parker |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click on
title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Dad Fans of Sunny
Randall will welcome her back in Spare Change, the sixth novel in this
series by Robert B. Parker. In this installment, Sunny agrees to help her dad
track down a serial killer, who has resumed a spree after a 20-year hiatus,
leaving his signature on the corpses: a few coins, or as the title says, Spare
Change. Here’s an excerpt, all of Chapter 2, pp. 6-10: It
was Monday morning. My bed was made; the kitchen counters gleamed. I had
applied makeup carefully, taken a lot of time with my hair. The loft had been
vacuumed and dusted, and there were flowers on the breakfast table. I was
wearing embroidered jeans so tight that I’d had to lie down to put them on.
My top was a white tee that drifted off one shoulder. I’d been doing power
yoga with a trainer, and I was happy with the way my shoulders looked. My
shoes were black platform sneakers that bridged the gap between casual and
dressy in just the right way. Richie brought Rosie back from her weekend
visit on Monday mornings, and it takes a lot of work to look glamorous when
you are trying very hard to look as if you aren’t trying to look glamorous. When
they arrived I was casually painting under my skylight while the sun was
good, and had been for a good five minutes. I put the brush down and picked
Rosie up when she came in, and kissed her on the nose while she squirmed and
wagged her tail and let me know simultaneously that she was thrilled to see
me and wanted to be put down. I put her on the floor. “Place
looks great,” Richie said. “Oh,”
I said. “Thanks.” “You
do, too.” I smiled. “Oh,”
I said. “Thanks.” Richie
put a paper bag on the flowers. “What’s
in there?” I said. “Coffee,”
Richie said, “and some corn and molasses muffins.” “Did
you have in mind sharing?” I said. “Sure,”
Richie said. He
opened the bag and took out two big coffee and four muffins. “Corn
and molasses,” I said. “My total fave. Rosie
went to her water dish and drank loudly and at length. I sat at the counter
with Richie and picked up a muffin. “Did
my kumquat have a good time?” I said to Richie. “She
did.” “Did
she go for walks?” “Yes.
We took her out every day on the beach.” “We being you
and the wife.” Richie
nodded. “Kathryn,”
Richie said. I nodded. “And
she likes Rosie?” “She does.” “Where
does Rosie sleep when she’s there?” I said. “In bed with me and Kathryn,”
Richie said. He
had taken the plastic cap off his coffee cup. “And
she doesn’t mind?” “Kathryn?
Or Rosie?” Richie said. “Not
Rosie,” I said. “Kathryn
doesn’t mind,” Richie said. “Love me, love my dog.” “Our
dog,” I said. “I
get her two weekends a month,” Richie said. “I think it’s clear that she’s
not mine exclusively.” “I
know. I’m sorry.” Richie
nodded. He was physically well organized. Maybe six feet tall.
Strong-looking. Very neat. He always looked like he’d just shaved and
showered. His thick, black hair was short. All his movements seemed precise
and somehow integrated. He had a lot of the interiority that my father had.
We ate some of our muffins and drank some of our coffee. Rosie eventually
finished her water and came over and sat on the floor between us. “Do you suppose all
bull terriers drink water like that?” I said. “I think it’s some
kind of ‘glad to see you’ ritual,” Richie said. “She does it when she first
gets to my house, too.” “Remember when we
first got her?” I said. “Right after we were
married,” Richie said. “She was about the
size of a guinea pig,” I said. “Maybe not that
small,” Richie said. “And we had to be so
careful of her at first so as not to roll over on her in bed.” We were both quiet. “You okay?” Richie
said after a time. “Sure,” I said. “You?” “Yeah,” Richie said.
“I’m fine.” We drank some coffee
and ate some muffin. “Felix says he gave
you a hand with something a while back.” I nodded. “As far as your Uncle
Felix goes, I’m still part of the family.” “Felix likes who he
likes,” Richie said. “Circumstance doesn’t have much effect on him.” “I assume that he also
dislikes who he dislikes,” I said. “He does,” Richie
said. “It is much better to be one of the ones he likes.” “I understand that,” I
said. Richie broke off an
edge of his second muffin and ate it. “Felix says you had
something going with a police chief On the North Shore,” Richie said. “I did,” I said. “And?” “Now I don’t.” “What was the
problem?” Richie said. “He was still hung up
on his former wife,” I said. Richie nodded. He
drank some coffee and put the cup down and smiled at me. “You understand that?” “Yes,” I said. “I do.” Richie nodded, slowly
looking at the surface of the coffee in his cup. “I understand it,
too,” Richie said. “Time now,” I said,
“for a pregnant silence.” “And then chitchat
about Rosie some more,” Richie said. Readers of Spare
Change will not be disappointed with Parker’s consistent writing
qualities: complicated characters, crisp dialogue, and fast-moving action. Added
to the mix in Spare
Change, is a finely presented motif on the parent-child relationship. Steve Hopkins,
July 25, 2007 |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the August 2007
issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Spare
Change.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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