City of Bones

When a dog unearths the moldering skeleton of a long-dead boy in the Hollywood Hills, crusty L.A. detective Hieronymus ”Harry” Bosch is charged with digging up the usual: a body identification, suspect list, love interest, and, ultimately, a killer. A charter member of the now-thriving group of inner-city noirists (see Dennis Lehane and George P. Pelecanos), Connelly hasn’t written his best this time—or even his best Bosch book; the latest installment suffers from some writerly tics that the astute suspense reader can see coming a mile away. (Just what do you think is going to happen to that young, frisky, rookie-slash-love interest mentioned above?) But, in the end, it doesn’t matter: Bones is still great, gulp-in-one-sitting fun from a writer who long ago made his. B