When the smartest writer of lighthearted crime fiction
brings JohnDortmunder back after a five-year hiatus, his
fans are in for a double helpingof fun. Before the plot
takes its first outlandish turn, Dortmunder's having a
kind of midlife crisis: what's a career crook to do when
his most recent attempt at restocking the family coffers
ends in a botched burglary? Dortmunder makes his escape by
pretending to be a customer caught napping in the
optician's office of a New Jersey discount store after
midnight, but he's unable to set up a new heist. Hoping to
recoup his losses, he signs on with his old friend Andy
Kelp, who's made an Internet connection with a bizarre
scam artist named Fitzroy Guilderpost. Guilderpost's plan
to take over an Indian gambling casino requires the
replacement of one dead Indian buried in a Queens cemetery
with another corpse, who's actually related to
Guilderpost's partner, a Las Vegas chorine named Little
Feather. Dortmunder and pals have to spirit JosephRedcorn
out of the plot he's been occupying for nearly a century
and replace himwith Little Feather's grandfather, who's
been dead for quite a spell himself.Little Feather will
inherit a third of the casino if she can prove she's
relatedto the newly planted Indian, who belonged to a
vanishing tribe, thePottaknobbees.Dortmunder can smell the
wool being pulled over his eyes and has no intention of
playing the fleeced sheep, not when he sees a way to cut
himself and Andy in for a partner's share of the profits.
But the casino's current owners are as crooked as
FitzroyGuilderpost, so while switching one dead Indian
with another isn't tough, evenfor a fellow who hates
physical labor as much as Dortmunder does, keeping him
planted long enough for the law to match his DNA with
Little Feather's is a much more problematic
enterprise.This is one of Dortmunder's most picaresque
adventures (The Hot Rock, Don't Ask, etc.), and shows
offauthor Donald E. Westlake's gifts: the pacing as swift
as a dealer's shuffle, the secondary characters and the
convoluted twists and turns of the plot worthy of the late
Ross Thomas. And speaking of switched bodies and stolen
identities… is it possible that Donald Westlake is Ross
Thomas? (Don't panic; it's just wishful thinking from a
big fan of the comic caper genre. But when you've worked
your way through Westlake's oeuvre of over 50 novels, and
reread every Elmore Leonard you can get your hands on, you
might want to make your way to Ross Thomas'sback list,
too). --Jane Adams
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