Declan Hughes certainly has his finger on the pulse of Dublin society and has no qualms in cutting through the fakeness and revealing the rather more sordid dealings and attitudes that lie beneath the surface of respectability. Here, one's place in society is important, and whether it's dealing with the hierarchy of the church or the celebrity scene, Hughes knows it's still a tight-knit little community that just takes a few tugs to unravel. "In Dublin, it sometimes seems as if more than one degree of separation is too much to hope for", he writes in City of Lost Girls, and here that one-step remove, if there is one, is never far away from links to crime and scandal.
Keeping up-to-date with the changes that the Republic of Ireland is undergoing in the current financial climate - the Celtic Tiger perhaps suffering more than most - Hughes turns his eye to another proud Irish institution, the international celebrities of its acting and movie making industry. It's not exactly a thriving business as far as Irish movies are concerned, but favourable tax laws make it an attractive place to shoot movies and have encouraged many celebrities, Irish and faux-Irish (another favourite target of Hughes, attacking here the old ethereal mysticism and blarney in Irish filmmaking), to set-up in Dublin and been seen hanging out on the town with the likes of Bono and The Edge.
Behind every success story however there's a few skeletons, and probably more than a few in the case of Jack Donovan, favourite son of the city done good, an acclaimed and successful Hollywood film director who has come back to his hometown to shoot his latest movie. Private Detective Ed Loy has done his share of keeping closet doors locked in the past for Donovan and been thoroughly sickened by the experience, but when his services are called upon again after 15 years to look into the disappearance of two young female extras from the set, there's a lot more at stake than the expense of reshoots and a threat to the production schedule. Anonymous letters received by Donovan and a connection to the disappearance of three girls on the shoot of one of the director's previous films in LA, suggest that a serial killer who kills in threes has resurfaced and that he may be connected with the small group of people, including the director himself, who make up Donovan's production team.
If the serial killer plot is a little by-the-numbers, with occasional italicised chapters from the killer's perspective as interludes to the Ed Loy first-person narrative, it's still a thrilling prospect, not least because of the authenticity of Hughes' characterisation and his understanding of the closed little worlds of Irish society and their "one degree of separation" from low society. This inevitably brings in hard-to-shake-off baggage from previous Ed Loy investigations, but unlike The Dying Breed, Hughes achieves a better balance here, principally through the figure of Loy's girlfriend Anne Fogarty, allowing some normal, decent, down-to-earth qualities to offset the whole sordid business of moviemaking, private investigation and the Dublin social world. The dark and sordid themes are all still there, but it's a welcome touchstone to normality that prevents the bleakness from overwhelming the narrative this time, or indeed letting the narrator wallow in the existential horror of it all.