When Conrad's ex-girlfriend Lily, a stunning, slightly-famous actress, is gunned down before his eyes as they're just about to order lunch in a fashionable restaurant, the injuries he himself receives are severe enough to put most people off restaurants, let alone ex-girlfriends, for life. But when Conrad is finally able to walk, eat and, more importantly, think again, it strikes him that there was something distinctly dodgy about the killing. Toby Litt's crime debut is a stylishly grisly affair in the manner of, perhaps, an Anglo Elmore Leonard, with a nod to Middle England in the shape of a plot which revels in the dusty joys of low-grade theatre. The pace is merciless, the characters so brittle you can hear them snap, crackle and pop, the one-liners so sharp you could cut yourself; if you add the lengthy descriptions of exactly what a bullet does to the human body upon impact and shortly thereafter, and the numerous cunning shifts of direction, it's not what you'd call a relaxing read. Just try putting it down, though.
