A ‘Kinky’ tale of Big Apple murders | VailDaily.com
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A ‘Kinky’ tale of Big Apple murders

Terri Schlichenmeyer

It happens to every kid at least once on the playground: somebody blames somebody else for something that happened, and the not-so-guilty party is left loudly protesting innocence.It’s no fun when someone wrongly accuses you of doing something bad. Just ask Kinky Friedman. In his new novel, “Ten Little New Yorkers” (c.2005, Simon & Schuster), someone’s trying to frame the Kinkster for a series of murders that he, of course, did not commit.It’s been a long time since Kinky and his Watson-like sidekick, Ratso, have had a case. It bothers Kinky something fierce – almost as much as it bothers him that his cat, Cuddles, is gone. Cuddles went somewhere over the Rainbow Bridge, for sure. Add the fact that the lesbian dance troupe upstairs has been strangely quiet, and you have a recipe for a dark mood in the City that Never Sleeps. Looking for a little change of scenery, Kinky heads home to Texas and the Utopia Ranch, where he trades an apartment surrounded by two-legged animals, for a trailer full of four-legged old friends.It might have been a good trade, until Kinky gets a call from his journalist buddy, McGovern. There’s been a murder in New York, and the dead man’s wallet just happened to be on the floor of Kinky’s apartment. Trouble is, Kinky has never heard of the dead man before, and now the cops are demanding that he high-tail it back to the Big Apple.The same night Kinky gets back to New York, another man is murdered, and then another, and another. The trail of clues all point to a certain Texan who’s in big trouble. Ratso offers to help, but his brand of “help” gets Kinky in deeper. Rambam, another old friend, is out of the country. McGovern can only offer his apartment. How can the Kinkster solve the crime for which he’s being framed? Will the love of an angel make the tribulations bearable? And what ever happened to that cat?Part of this book is obviously true. Part of it is not. It doesn’t matter which is which, though, because it’s all fun in this seventeenth Kinky Friedman novel. Kinky’s alter-ego is part poet and part detective with just a little bit of bull tossed in the mix. This is not your mother’s sweet little crime novel, in case you hadn’t guessed; the crimes are so beyond belief that they’re absurdly funny, and parts of this book are about as un-“PC” as you can get. You might have the murderer figured out early in this book (I did), but you won’t see the ending coming.What’s next for the Kinkster? Well, maybe nothing. Friedman fans will be shocked at the ending of this book, but if you’re a faithful reader, you know that nothing is as it seems in a Kinky Friedman novel.Pick up this book and get ready for a crime novel like no other. “Ten Little New Yorkers” should be a “10” on anybody’s list. VT


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