No more than an average plot irritatingly written and with a cast whose quirks are all the character they possess. Two elderly lesbians, one of whom is senile and racist, a gay detective who reads Yourcenar and will not stop tricking behind his lover's back, the standard bigotted police lieutenant and gay activist obsessed by his own political line all get involved in a situation which starts with graffitti, leads on to death and ends scrappily with nobody satisfied. Idle curiosity - every second-rate writer's best friend - led me on, but will not lead me to the next book in the seres that will undoubtedly appear. (26 November 1985, possibly published in New York Native) ( )