It began with a call for help in The Naked Man. Then came The Killing Kind, and The Last Romanov.
Now, professional fixer Katerina Mills is back in the explosive fourth book as the award-winning, crime fiction series continues.
Three unsolved murders.
A killer on the loose.
One person holds the key to solving the crimes.
Katerina Mills.
Living a dangerous double life, Katerina is caught between a psychotic former client and the cop trying to bring him down. Time is running out for Kat to save the killer’s next target before it’s too late – the man she loves.
It began with a call for help in The Naked Man. Then came The Killing Kind, and The Last Romanov.
Now, professional fixer Katerina Mills is back in the explosive fourth book as the award-winning, crime fiction series continues.
Three unsolved murders.
A killer on the loose.
One person holds the key to solving the crimes.
Katerina Mills.
Living a dangerous double life, Katerina is caught between a psychotic former client and the cop trying to bring him down. Time is running out for Kat to save the killer’s next target before it’s too late – the man she loves.
Where the hell is the hit man? The familiar, silent monologue raged until Katerina Mills swore the other office workers heard the screaming in her head.
The morning’s inner tirade had kicked off from something small, as it always did. The stapler had jammed.
I shouldn’t be here.
I should be in Paris.
I should be with Alexander Winter.
The struggle continued until she heard, “Give it here, girl.”
Katerina released her enemy to Luella, the office manager. A tall, regal woman, Luella had a no-nonsense attitude wrapped in polite efficiency. Katerina did her best not to be a burden. After all, someone had pulled strings to get her the job. And I’m supposed to be grateful.
“Take it easy, baby,” Luella said, handing it back.
The office décor screamed nineteen-eighties with its drab, brown-patterned carpet. The zig-zagged desks with peeling laminate forced human proximity. Technicolor Coatings, a paint manufacturer, would have made a perfect setting for Sartre’s masterpiece about Hell: No Exit – in Brooklyn.
Katerina resumed her rote tasks: open the envelopes, remove the checks, make the photocopies, staple the check copy to the backup of the bill and receiver. She had done accounts payable before. As a teenager, she worked after school for her father, William Mills, the manager of a plush toy factory. In reality, Kat had been an unwitting cog in his real business, heroin distribution, paying the fake invoices, helping to launder the money.
Next, Katerina separated out the thick, stapled packets of Safety Data Sheets. She knew the pictures in their little red diamonds by heart, the flame, the exploding bomb, the skull and crossbones, and more. She updated a spreadsheet, a mind-numbing exercise of typing in each product’s name and chemical ingredients, xylene, toluene, ethyl benzene, and the hazard and precautionary statement codes she knew by heart. Ground/bond container. Extremely flammable liquid and vapor. Contains gas under pressure; may explode if heated. Keep away from heat, hot surface, sparks, open flames, and other ignition sources. No smoking.
The work had piled up while she had been out. This time, it had been bronchitis. You have to be careful, the doctor had warned. The pneumonia could return. So? Let it come. Better for me.
Trapped behind the desk, Kat’s mind created havoc, the fear and guilt running wild and unchecked.
I’m sitting here doing paperwork and three people are dead. Murdered.
Today could be the day it’s four.
If the hit man had done his job . . . John Reynolds would be dead. John Reynolds, her first client as a professional “fixer,” introduced through the shadowy MJM agency. A loving husband who just wanted someone to follow his young, beautiful wife, Felicia, and recommend a birthday gift. How could I have been so stupid? How could I not have seen he only wanted a dupe to follow his wife and discover her lover . . . so he could take his revenge.
Like a disaster movie stuck in a loop, the replay button in Kat’s head flipped on. Following the young socialite, tracking her every move, even arranging to bump into her at Saks. The lover, Will Temple, showing up at Kat’s apartment looking for a film company and an audition. And then seeing it all on video, seeing herself with both victims, falling into Reynolds’ spider web trap of blackmail, forced to do his bidding.
Five months, gone. Five months of waiting every day to hear if the killer had trapped and caught his next victim. Alex.
The hysteria in Kat’s head reached its zenith and then, like the pop of a balloon, spent itself. Exhaustion washed over her, leaving her hollow and empty.
The door between the factory and the office opened, letting in the sharp, stinging scents of the chemicals. Kat’s nose congested and her eyes burned. A brief thought occurred to her: a stuffed nose might linger. It could buy her some time. Another night on the couch. Maybe.
Sensing someone standing nearby, Kat’s head snapped up. A Hispanic man in his late fifties peered around the hallway corner, a tentative look on his face. Immigrants made up the factory workforce. Katerina had surmised that management asked no questions about the validity of work authorization documents. “We’re not detectives,” was the official line.
“Hello, miss,” he said.
Katerina hoped she had shed any sign of her anger. She hoped the smile on her face looked real. “Hola Juan,” she said. “Como ésta?”
“Bien, bien,” he said. “Tu madre?”
“Mi madre ésta bien,” she said, enjoying their ritual conversation. She asked after his family.
“Bien, gracias a Dios,” he said, raising a hand to indicate the heavens.
Once, he had shown her a picture of his daughter, a beautiful girl with two children of her own. He sent her money so she could live well with his grandchildren.
And I bet you didn’t use your daughter as bait for a corrupt DEA agent so you could flee after your drug trafficking operation was stolen by the competition. Nope. I’ll bet you didn’t.
“En que puedo servirle, Juan,” Kat asked, the familiar “How may I help you?”
“Please, I have one problem,” he said, and held out his pay stub. Together, between his poor English and her poor Spanish, they tried to understand each other.
Luella appeared at the desk and spoke flawless Spanish to Juan. “That’s okay baby, I got this,” she said to Katerina.
Katerina gave him a kind smile and Juan said, “Thank you, miss,” as Luella whisked him away.
***
At the end of her shift, Katerina exited the building, stepping into the still, warm air. Glancing to her left, she noted the usual gathering of factory employees by one of the doors, clustered together, some smoking. A few waved, others stared, their thoughts unknown. Kat walked away toward the subway. She had a moment’s trepidation she was being followed; giving a half-turn, she relaxed. Juan, heading to the same subway station, always followed a short distance behind.
Kat took the steps down into the subway and came out onto the platform just as the train screeched into the station, bringing a rush of tepid, sodden air until it came to a nails-on-a-chalkboard stop.
As the doors opened, Kat gave a wistful thought that she should speak Spanish better. Moose could help her. But of course, she couldn’t go near Moose. She couldn’t go near anyone.
It’s too dangerous.
I could get someone killed.
I already did.
Katerina Mills is a professional fixer for MJM Consulting. A psychotic former client has captured her love, Alex Winters, who had been on the run. Meanwhile, Kat is struggling with serious health issues and living with her “boyfriend,” an abusive police detective. Living with him gives her access to information about his investigations to report back to the client, but it also means taking beatings and verbal abuse. Can she survive long enough to save Alex?
The Fixer: The Good Criminal–Part One ends on a cliffhanger, as the subtitle suggests. I found the end somewhat confusing, and I wonder if that is because I have not read the first three books in the series. While the book claims to be enjoyable as a standalone and scenes from the earlier books in the series are recounted through flashbacks, still, there were contextual clues that were missing that left me feeling confused about why things were happening and how all of the characters were connected. Jill Amy Rosenblatt is undoubtedly a fantastic writer, though, especially in Kat’s character development. It is easy to bond with Kat who is emotionally broken after losing Alex and suffering through the torment of her boyfriend and her profession. Glimpses into her life as a regular woman, such as spending time with friends for activities like an aerial silks class, provide rays of sunshine among all the dark clouds, though even her friends cannot be trusted.
This noir crime thriller is very well-written. For those who have enjoyed the earlier books in the series, it will be a welcome installment in Katerina’s story. I would suggest reading the first three books before embarking on The Fixer: The Good Criminal–Part One for any new readers with the understanding that this story will be continued in the upcoming Part Two. Much of the content may be very triggering for some readers, so those who are sensitive to reading about domestic violence, assault and battery, misogyny, and human trafficking should skip this one.