jessica-bensonFootball, sex and murder.  What more do you need?  Believable characters?  Ummmm…well, no.    Lots of football stuff?  OK, got that.    A real poser of a mystery?  Not so much.

It’s one of those books you read fairly eagerly, happily turning pages, get to the end, and it’s well,   hmmmmm what’s for lunch?

It is set in Miami, with a larger than life, nicer than you could ever believe star quarterback with the truly nifty name of Kyle Sands.  Can you BE more Anglo Saxon than that?  He is just a sweetie, but for some strange reason, has a real slut of a girlfriend,  which doesn’t seem to fit his style.  He gets drunk at a party with her, and has a big loud fight, punches some intruding guy in the snozola, and drags her out of there.  They have another fight on the sidewalk outside of her building, and he stomps off in a cloud of thunder.

Can you guess what happens next?  You can?  Then you should be writing formula mystery stories like this one.  Yep, you nailed it.  She is found brutally beaten, well dead, actually, in her apartment with the word ‘whore’ cut into her forehead.  And guess who is the prime suspect?  Yep, right again.

The two detectives who catch this case are lovely Karen somebody or other, and another guess what!   She knew Kyle way back in high school in East Bumf*ck someplace, but instead of taking herself off the case due to conflict of interest, keeps that little fact to herself.  Meanwhile, her much older, much fatter male partner, takes an instant dislike to the football player, and continues to play it over the top rough and tough with him.

So does little miss Detective Karen do her damn job and get to investigating?  No, she goes to visit the old high school friend on the Q. T.  and they instantly fall into lust.  So much for objectivity.

The improbable dead girlfriend is portrayed by everyone as the Slut of the Year, banging everyone in sight, including the hot female trainer.  She is painted as just so awful as to be pretty much unbelievable.  Not that people such as she do not exist, but why would Mr. Goody Two Shoes want anything to do with her?  Makes no sense.

Anyway, we find out who did it, and I was pretty much on the money, seeing as how it was telegraphed so a person standing on distant shores could see it.

Bottom line, thumb-wise?    Twiddling.



One comment on “THE MYSTERY OF JESSICA BENSON by C. K. Laurence

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