Minnesota-born supermodel Alie'e Maison is back in Minneapolis for a photo shoot. At the raucous wrap party, she turns up dead. Lucas Davenport, the millionaire homicide specialist who often corrals serial killers, is called to the scene. What initially appears to be a straightforward crime of passion — Alie'e was strangled after having sex (with a woman) — becomes much more complex when a second body, hotel concierge Sandy Lansing is found stuffed in a closet. Maison's international stature ignites a media circus, muddying Davenport's investigation. There are a dozen potential killers ranging from jilted lovers to dope dealers to Alie'e's born-again brother. The latest entry in the wildly successful Prey series contains all the elements fans have come to expect: solid plot, gallows humor, tasteful sex, and the likable, self-assured Davenport. If there's a bone to pick here, it's that the identity of the killer seems to come out of left field. Or maybe the plot was clever enough to completely fool at least one reader. Overall, this is an involving and very enjoyable thriller.

This well-regarded series of police procedurals (Certain Prey, 1999, etc.) continues as Lucas Davenport, deputy chief of the Minneapolis PD, hunts a double murderer whose brutal crime sparks a series of deaths that may or may not be revenge killings. Sandford's 11th, however, owes more to Jerry Springer than Ed McBain. Two families vie for honors as most dysfunctional. There are the Olsons, small-towners who push their beauty-queen daughter Sharon (rechristened by the media as Alie'e Maison) into the high-fashion world of sex, drugs, and rock n roll, while brother Tom's itinerant-preacher shtick (complete with stigmata) packs 'em in across the Bible Belt. Then there are the Plain/Corbeaus, leftover hippies from the 60s whose fashion-photographer son and model-turned-potter daughter amuse themselves by sleeping together. Amnon Plain's latest shoot features Alie'e in a provocative pose that raises eyebrows, as well as other body parts, across the nation, especially since it hits the tabloids the day after her body is found, along with that of hotel manager Sandy Lansing, in the tres chic home of socialite Sallance Hanson. Now Davenport has to contend with a media storm as well as a murder. Not to mention his other big problem, the blizzard of women swirling around him: Catrin, his college sweetheart who's ditched her middle-aged marriage and is looking for solace; Marcy Sherrill, a lover from the force now injured in the line of duty; and the redoubtable Weather Karkinnen, his former fiancee, whose good graces he'd like to get back into as soon as hes had the chance to sleep with ex-model Jael Corbeau a few dozen more times. Beneath the slime, theres a decent whodunit, but it takes real digging to unearth it. "I don't know," muses Davenport during the Grand Guignol of a climax, "we might be missing the Russians or the Chinese, but thats about it." Amen.

This 11th novel in the Lucas Davenport series is one of the best, presenting a seemingly simplistic plot that explodes into a complex cat-and-mouse game with an invisible killer. Two murder victims are discovered after a party attended by a group of people with too much money (and they are all spending it on drugs). Famous model Alie'e Maison is one of the victims; the other is the drug supplier. To complicate matters, an undercover cop who works on Davenport's team is identified as having been at the party. Davenport, deputy chief of police in Minneapolis, heads the investigation. As the killings continue, he must determine the motive behind the first murders and then find out why someone is killing almost everyone involved with Alie'e. The book takes off like a roller coaster ride, and the tension never stops. Sandford not only creates a suspenseful tale revolving around the art world, the high-fashion scene, and the realm of a large metropolitan police department attempting to protect its citizens, but he has spun a truly engrossing mystery that leaves the reader guessing to the end. For all fiction collections.

The 12th entry in Sandford's ever-entertaining Prey series (Certain Prey, etc.) finds Minneapolis Deputy Police Chief Lucas Davenport again rambling through a murky case with his unique combination of gutsy intelligence and aw-shucks attitude. Fashion model Alie'e Maison has been found dead in a back bedroom, seemingly strangled at a chic party. Then — typical of Davenport's luck — the body of a second woman tumbles out of a closet just as the investigating cops get ready to leave the scene. There's no shortage of suspects who could have killed Alie'e: her boyfriend, for instance, recently dropped in favor of a lesbian lover, or her brother, a backwoods holy man who disapproved of his sister's lifestyle. There are Alie'e's parents, who could be trying to cover up a history of sexual abuse; the local drug dealer who supplied Alie'e with heroin; and the oily banker who appears to be the money behind the drug dealer. As many of these suspects get murdered, one by one, including those connected to the second victim in the closet, it's clear that the killer remains at large. That makes Davenport and his colleagues look foolish in the eyes of the media horde descending on the case. To make matters worse, Davenport's having women trouble again, torn among three beauties who want to bed him. As always, it's a joy to follow this rare cop who gets led more often by his gut instinct than by clues. His humor, understated and perverse, can be wildly funny, and the people he runs across are shrewdly conceived originals, cut from fabric way at the back of the bin.