Life is different at the southern end of US Highway 1: Key West, aka Margaritaville, reggae-calypso music you may find yourself humming while reading James Polkinghorn’s debut novel.

“In Key West, we don’t think so much about whether conduct is illegal --- it’s more about who’s being hurt.” That’s part-time lawyer and full-time bar owner Jack Girard’s philosophy of “Anna Markova, a high-end Key West sex worker.” Anna is a stunning Russian with black silky hair, almost as tall as Jack’s basketball player height.

"A surprise dénouement floored me. Trivial mentions of characters, boating and life in Miami for power-people are all subtle clues, trademarks of a seasoned author."

Claude Girard, aka the Duke, is a manipulative power-hungry Miami attorney. His tentacles reach into government alphabet agencies and news media. Nothing stands in his way, as demonstrated by coercing his son Jack out of his firm, with a payoff large enough to buy Jack’s Hideaway, the Key West bar.

The Duke phones early one morning and tells Jack that his mother, Betty, committed suicide, flooding Jack with memories of his older brother’s similar death when they were college roommates. “Valium provided a substitute leveling of ragged emotions, and vodka provided a daily escape into painless oblivion.” Jack drives to Miami, where the Duke portrays Julio Guzman as the owner of pharmaceutical and health care facilities, which are actually fronts for drug trafficking and money laundering. He tells Jack, “Your mother was having an affair with him.” The Duke can’t summon the FBI as there is circumstantial evidence that he would benefit from Betty’s death, including a lottery-like insurance policy. Moreover, Jack learns that the FBI and DEA have Guzman on their radar but no solid leads.

The attorney-investigator side of Jack’s brain takes over. He tracks down leads and draws logical conclusions. Something about his mom’s suicide doesn’t jell. She had quit drinking and resumed her avocation: painting. There’s an incomplete portrait in Betty’s oceanfront penthouse; she had a reason to live. Jack wedges jigsaw pieces into place, but the picture doesn’t match the one on the box. He scrambles the pieces and assembles a new scenario. Time and again.

A surprise dénouement floored me. Trivial mentions of characters, boating and life in Miami for power-people are all subtle clues, trademarks of a seasoned author. However, the tell-and-not-show of flashbacks and minutiae may bother some readers.

LIQUID SHADES OF BLUE is difficult to categorize. The publisher identifies it as a thriller, but it lacks some of those characteristics. This is a tale of intrigue, deceit, coercion, the essence of being human --- one person’s endeavor to bring justice to the justice system. Perhaps Polkinghorn has coined a new genre: essentialism mystery.