“Higher than a kite at his own son’s funeral.” #itsinhiskissbyvickielester
“Regarding his dilated pupils, and distraught expression with apprehension, she realized he had asked ‘Why?’ in tones so deeply afflicted, so heart-torn, so wounded, she couldn’t, at first, discern the meaning.”
“Above it all, she is, a veritable hermit now, up in the canyons. Never goes out. Won’t speak to me, and then this, this witch who won’t see me, starts chatting up the authorities, dripping poison in their ears. Saying I was stoned, intoxicated, tripping or whatever nonsense, so much so that I was incapable of recognizing my own—” there was the sound of an unsteady inhalation of air. “Incapable of recognizing my own son. Can you imagine?”
Vickie Lester has an unmistakable style–witty and knowing–that makes her writing fun to read, and It’s In His Kiss exemplifies it. The novel begins in Palm Springs as a love story but quickly becomes a murder mystery. To solve the case, the protagonist Anne Brown, a writer, must return to Los Angeles, the city she abandoned years earlier for New York; noir adventures ensue. Like Raymond Chandler, Lester knows both the physical and psychological milieux of her characters, and her insider status gives the novel extra depth. For me there was the bonus of reading about the neighborhood where I happen to live, but it’s not necessary to know anything about Hollywood (either the place or the industry) to enjoy the novel. The ending should surprise and delight everyone.