V.I.’s friend, Dr. Lotty Herschel is one of the best and most-caring doctors in the entire city of Chicago. Dr. Lotty’s nurse, Carol, has a teenage sister Consuelo who needs some help. She has become pregnant and forced to marry the ne’er-do-well, Fabiano. One day V. I. has accompanied Consuelo and Fabiano in quest of a job for him -- he has not been trying to hard to get one -- when Consuelo becomes very ill.

They head to the local hospital, which is one geared for the very well-to-do. At first, Consuelo is not helped because they think she is an itinerant Hispanic. When it is apparent that she might lose the baby, they treat her. Unfortunately, she has diabetes and tragically, Consuelo and the baby both die. V. I. is commissioned by Dr. Lotty and the family to dig out the truth, especially when Malcolm Tregiere, Lotty’s associate doctor, also turns up dead.

V. I. delves into the gang life of Chicago, trying to ferret out the truth because, all of a sudden, Fabiano appears flashing a brand new car. With his connections to gang life apparent, there is more here than meets the eye. V. I. becomes involved with the doctor on staff who had treated Consuelo.

V. I. is beaten, dragged into affairs she would rather not know about, and, ultimately, must investigate the hospital and the doctors where Consuelo was treated. This is not only a private-eye mystery but could be considered a medical thriller at the same time.

The characters are engrossing; the plot is convoluted but convincing; and the ending is justified. It is all a matter of whether the reader can become a follower of V. I. Warshawski. This reader could not. Give me Kinsey Milhone any day. V. I. is rougher and less likeable for some reason than other female private-eyes, in this reader’s humble opinion. The story itself was good enough, and had a lot of promise, but somehow left me flat somewhere along the way. Sorry, V. I.

--Kay Black