
Lieberman’s Day, Stuart M. Kaminsky. Open Road Media (ISBN: 9781480400207) 2013 (first published in 1994).
Summary: Abe’s nephew is killed and his wife shot in a mugging while a murderer stalks the abused ex-wife Hanrahan is sheltering.
Moments after walking out the door from a dinner party on a cold winter night, David Lieberman and his wife Carol confront two muggers. Things go awry and one mugger shoots David, the other, Carol. David dies, but Carol, critically wounded and pregnant, survives. Abe Lieberman, who hasn’t yet fallen asleep gets the call at 12:02 am. David is Abe’s nephew.
The book chronicles the next twenty-four hours as Abe, and his recovering-alcoholic partner Bill Hanrahan track down the killers. At the same time, Abe must try to comfort his brother and sister-in-law in the loss of their son, drawing on the help of his tight-knit Jewish community, including the Alter Cockers, a group of older men who hang out at his brother’s diner.
Abe relies on his street connections, cutting a deal with El Perro, a drug kingpin, to find the killers. Shooting a pregnant woman is an offense even to them. Meanwhile Hanrahan learns that the violent ex-husband of an abused woman and her son, who he has sheltered, is back in town. Will Hanrahan find him before he finds them?
Both men also struggle with domestic issues. Abe’s daughter’s marriage has broken up but now she struggles as her former husband is seeing another woman. Abe is loyal to his daughter while liking the father of his grandchild. He’s met the woman he’s seeing and likes her as well. Bill’s wife walked out some time ago. Despite a relationship with an Asian woman who is ready for more, he cannot let go.
Meanwhile the plot is building toward double climaxes in Bill’s apartment and Carol’s hospital room. For one of the killers, Carol, while alive, is a threat.
This is a relatively short novel. The fast-paced double plot unfolds in the span of one very long day during a very cold Chicago winter. Amid all this, I enjoyed Lieberman’s street-savvy wisdom combined with the restraint that accompanies others in their grief, never saying the stupid thing.