Betsy Thornhill had a face lift. It worked so well that she now passes for her mid-thirties, instead of 51. After decades in London, she moves back to Manhattan a few months after 9/11. Within days, a man who came on to her is dead, and she’s the main suspect.

I didn’t like this book or Betsy. I couldn’t believe that all the male characters would throw themselves at her—she looks great, but her per­son­al­i­ty and confidence are lacking. Im­plau­si­bly, Betsy fails to think about her estranged daughter, Franny, for 160 pages, despite the strain of being a murder suspect and despite the importance of Franny for the rest of the book.

Don’t bother.