Sixkill: A Disappointment

Sixkill, the final Spenser novel, was a disappointment. Because it’s the last one written by Robert Parker, I came to the book with high expectations, even though I didn’t realize that until I was into it.  (Of course, Parker didn’t know it was going to be the last one.)  I wanted to like this book a lot.  Instead, I found it derivative, a recycling of a lot of Parker’s previous plots. 

Even the opening mystery is a rip-off of a movie star scandal from the 1920s, when Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle was accused of the murder of a young woman during a three-day party in his San Francisco hotel suite. Arbuckle was tried three times, with two mistrials and one final acquittal (that jury also read him a statement of apology from the jury box!). Parker appropriates this wholesale, with a foul-tempered obese movie star and a young woman who dies in his room after they’ve had sex.  Is it murder? 

The public is baying for Nelson’s blood, but Spenser’s friend Lieutenant Quirk doesn’t think there’s enough to prove murder.  He asks Spenser to look into it.  Spenser agrees to work with Rita Fiore, the brilliant mercenary lawyer he’s known for years.  Rita’s high-caliber law firm has been retained to represent Nelson even though no charges have been filed. 

The real focus of the story is Nelson’s bodyguard, Zebulon Sixkill, or “Z the Cree.” Sixkill was orphaned early and mostly raised by his grandfather, not unlike Spenser, who was raised by his uncles.  Sixkill was scouted for a Californiacollege football team but blew his scholarship due to his lack of focus.  He sees Spenser as a mentor, and becomes a twenty-something version of Spenser’s first “adopted” child, Paul Giocomin. This is the story of the book, although organized crime does pop up and there is a shoot-out at the end.

In alternating sections, Spenser and the love of his life Susan nosh on foodie-approved nibbles, drink perfect drinks, and talk repeatedly, at depth, about how awesome they are.

Hawk is absent from this book, on Special Assignment in Asia.  Here is the most compelling internal evidence, if we didn’t already know it, that Parker planned more Spenser books.  The final Spenser would have to include Hawk.  In this book, though, Hawk’s presence would shift the dynamic, which is between Spenser and Sixkill.

Oh, yeah, and there’s a dead girl, but nobody, even Spenser, seems too worried about that. After all, there are intervals to be run and speed-bags to be punched and laconic, manly wise-cracks to be made.  To be fair, the name of the book is Sixkill and not Some Dead Girl.  It’s just sad, because Spenser used to find time to care about the victims.

The resolution of the death (and it is resolved) seems very familiar; wasn’t this same reason given in Small Vices, too? In between talking about how cool they are, though, Susan does ask the one question that leads to an important clue in the girl’s death. 

There’s nothing wrong with the book.  The banter is top-notch: 

“And Rezendes, being dead, can’t tell us more,” I said. 

“Yeah,” Quirk said.  “Nice going.”

“Sorry,” I said.  “I was just trying to keep him from killing me.” 

“Sure,” Quirk said.  “It’s always about you, isn’t it.” 

And please note—not a said bookism to be found.  College professors could use Parker’s books to teach how to write dialogue. 

The action sequences are as good as Parker’s always are.  I just wished for a little more depth here, a little less self-congratulation from Susan and Spenser about their wonderful relationship, and something more involving than Spenser passing on the trade (and the trade is Being a Man) to another young apprentice.

I’m very afraid that Putnam is going to share-crop Spenser, and I think that would be bad.  I think they believe his style is so sparse and simple that anyone could copy it.  Almost anyone could, even I could, and it would be a bloodless, soulless copy. At the end of Sixkill, good or bad, Spenser has saved a young man, confronted the bad guy and is driving home to Susan.  Let’s let it end there.