Dirty Harry #12: The Dealer of Death - by Dane Hartman

After James William Gallant escapes from prison he has only one goal in mind, to torture and kill the man who put him there.  That man is Inspector Harry Callahan.

Who else would it be?  Lieutenant Bressler?  (If you don't know who Lieutenant Bressler is, then stick a disc of the original Dirty Harry or The Enforcer, the second sequel, into your DVD player and give it a spin.)  Come to think of it, that might make for an interesting story.

As I slogged through The Dealer of Death I kept asking myself a question: Is this book supposed to be funny?  Depending on where the reader is at any given moment, that answer could just as easily be yes as it could be no.  There were plenty of moments sprinkled throughout the book where the author (Dane Hartman was a house name) captured the wry humor found in most of the Dirty Harry films.  But then there were far too many parts where the writing was simply sloppy or struck the wrong tone.  Dirty Harry is not the type of guy that would say, "Your quarrel's with me."

I was also amused by things that, as an almost lifelong resident of the San Francisco Bay Area, I should not have been amused by.  Like the faked suicide at the beginning of the book.  Gallant leads the SFPD on a merry chase through downtown San Francisco and Golden Gate Park before running his stolen car off of a cliff.  I guess I wasn't around for the massive earthquake that lifted the Richmond and Sunset Districts a hundred or so feet above sea level and then sank both the Great Highway and Ocean Beach into the briny deep.  That must have been one hell of a ride, though.

Of the Dirty Harry novels that I have recently read, The Dealer of Death comes the closest to reading like an actual Dirty Harry movie.  Harry stays local throughout the story, busting heads and blasting bad guys, which gets him into the usual troubles with both the press and his superiors.

Although the novel hits the proper Dirty Harry story beats, the book's rhythm is way off.  Harry winds up investigating two separate crimes that, thanks to the brevity of the Category Series format, turn out to share a common link with Gallant.  He also romances the widow of the man Gallant murdered, which is the crime Gallant was serving time in prison for.  But this "romance" is ignored to the point that calling it underdeveloped would be implying that the author spends anytime whatsoever exploring Harry's love life.  Doesn't happen.  Then there are the Idiot Plot moments.  You know, when the characters have to act like idiots in order for the plot to work?  That happens a lot.  I know this book takes place twenty-five or more years ago, but there was enough ballistics and forensic investigation going on that Gallant's "Master Plan" would have been uncovered in a matter of days, and this book evidently takes place over several weeks.  Worst of all is that Harry doesn't act like Harry.  He's way too laid back about someone breaking into his girlfriend's apartment and stealing his firearm.  Then there's the bit where he is racing to save the day and stops for a cheeseburger and a cup of coffee.  That is not Dirty Harry Callahan.  That is Sissy Larry Loserman.

The Dealer of Death was the last in Warner's "Men of Action Books" Dirty Harry spin-off series, but it is far from one of its best.  It's a good thing that there are several more Dirty Harry books that I have yet to read, because I would have hated to finish the series off with this book souring my Dirty Harry memories.