OK, here’s the deal. Martin Gonlea’s life takes a sudden wrong turn as he rounds a street corner in lower Manhattan to find his mistress dead on the sidewalk. He can’t account for the minutes leading up to her death, and the more he tries to fix things–with his wife, and with her hard-boiled NYPD detective sister–the more quickly they unravel. Clocks fly out of windows, watches run backward, and time becomes undependable in this fantasy-tinged story of guilt, lust, obsession, and redemption.
He finds he can reset the clock, but each time he tries to do that, to get back before the bad stuff, when he comes to in that new time, things go awry. And he finds his ability unreliable, sometimes putting him in the future, sometimes in the past. He sees the deaths of several people, and when he tries to move time to avoid it, it seems to happen anyway, in yet a different time setting.
In different time settings, different people are the murderer, different people are the dead victim, and nothing is certain.
I absolutely loved this, except for the very very end, which was a total cop-out, a taffy for the lady readers.