WHEN THE DEAD SPEAK by S. D. Tooley

A typical, predictable police procedural mystery with less police procedure and lots more woo woo Native American spiritual hocus pocus.   Why is it we invest Native Americans with higher spiritual attributes than European descendents?   Why do we like to believe that they all have special spiritual powers?  I think if they had special spiritual powers they could have woo-woo’ed away that pipeline.  But that is just me being a cynic.

This book stars Sam(Samantha) Casey, a police sergeant, has a special talent of being able to lay her hands on a dead person and have instant knowledge about them.  Wow.  Turns out she is part Native American, and lives with her mother, who is full blooded something, and has a lot of woo woo powers, and can predict the future and even possibly change the future. That whole Native American thing was clumsily treated, awkward and really unbelievable.

OK, sorry.  This just didn’t work for me.  The basic plot is that a big rig collision into a pillar of a highway damages it so badly, that when the repair crew came to inspect it, they discovered it contained a body of a Black male, conveniently clutching a clue!  A clue!  (Remember Blue’s Clues?)  He is holding a pin.

When our gal lays hands on him in the morgue, she gets all kinds of visions.

What also was really just too much was that she disguises herself and thereby enters houses and snoops around and plants bugs in phones and gets into safes with surprising ease, taking out the contents and photographing them, yada yada yada.

She is assigned to a different district where she is partnered with a (gasp. surprise!) good looking single guy.  Due to some plot machinations, he meets her mother and the mother decides they belong together romantically.

Crummy mystery, with the bad guy over the top and over drawn, so no mystery as it is practically revealed to us long before the end, a typical romantic angle, and the awful hook of the gal who reads corpses.

Meh.

 

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