Two pages in and I was wishing Connelly and Lehane would team up again and flesh this great short story out into a full length novel, because I sure as hell would read it.
The story is set in Boston and poor Harry Bosch who spent the Vietnam War as a tunnel rat, and tries to avoid enclosed spaces, immediately finds himself in the Ted Williams tunnel with a load of maniac Boston drivers. (There's a reason they're known as 'Massholes'.)
Once he's met Patrick Kenzie and they've checked each other out and decided they're both alpha males they settle down to a bit of East Coast vs West Coast sports banter.
"You like baseball, Patrick?"
"You're the first guy I've seen in this town not wearing a Sox hat."
Patrick pulled off his hat and considered the front of it as he ran a hand through his hair. "Imagine that. I didn't even look when I left the house."
"Is that a rule around here? You've all got to represent Red Sox Nation or something?"
"It's not a rule, per se, more like a guideline."
I laughed out loud at that, seeing as I was wearing a Red Sox hat while I was reading.
But if I have one complaint about Patrick Kenzie, it's that he's not a hockey fan.
Patrick edged his way through the doorway onto an Arizona Cardinals rug, drew a bead on a BarcaLounger trimmed in Sun Devils colors. A Phoenix Suns pennant shared space with one from the Phoenix Coyotes and Patrick had to peer at the latter to realize the Coyotes played in the NHL.
If he learned nothing else from this day, he now knew Arizona had a professional hockey team.
So, please Messrs Lehane and Connelly, could Harry and Patrick ride again?