Lennox is a hard hitting, no nonesense 'Enquiry Agent' who finds himself, through no fault of his own, in the middle of a turf war. Set in fifties Glasgow, Russell ably conveys the gritty atmosphere of the city - the Second City of the Empire - with only the smog removed today to suggest not much has changed. That's more than likely unfair but I am reminded of McBride and Rankin's description of their respective patches, so I can imagine Glasgow is similar.
However, Lennox has to battle on and he reminds me of a cross between Philip Marlowe and Paul Temple with added aggro. The story is complex if only because the Glasgow gangs themselves seem to fall out in droves, add in some shady foreigners, some flesh parlours and a good dose of police brutality, plenty of bodies, mostly tortured pre-death and this all makes for a great read. Russell wastes no space in keeping the action flowing - usually at the expense of Lennox's well beaten head and his motley collection of so-called friends seem rather less than friendly most of the time. Not to worry, Lennox makes up for this lack of bonhomie with a dry humour all of his own, usually aimed at the benefits of living in Glasgow.
As the final chapters approach, the missing link to these murders becomes clear and what was a murder turns out to be - well, read the book. It should keep you guessing although the clues are there, of course. Lennox will be back, thank goodness.