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Twenty Seven Bones, Jonathan Nasaw
Simon & Schuster
Reviewed by Sheila Forbes (Courtesy of Taranaki Daily News)

Not for the squeamish, this one. Nasaw has conjured up the nastiest bunch of pathological serial killers you could never wish to meet. All that kept me reading after the opening chapters was the desire to see them get their comeuppance.

There are 27 bones in the hand of a human being. When not one but three corpses are found with their right hands missing on the Caribbean island of St Luke, the police chief, Julian Coffee, calls in an old friend, retired Special Agent Pender, to help. Pender can't resist the lure of an all-expenses paid holiday on the island.

We know who the murderers are: Anthropologists Phil and Emily Epp and their factotum/accomplice/sexual playmate Bennie. The Epps believe that by inhaling the last breath of a dying person they will prolong their lives and youthfulness. Bennie, an Indonesian, has a slightly different agenda. He believes that when he dies he can propitiate the gods by giving them a hand. Or two. Or better still, several, with as much money as he can raise. All three further indulge their depraved tastes by sexually abusing the victims before disposing of them.

More dead bodies turn up, this time with no attempt at concealment and still no clues as to the perpetrator, by now known as the Machete Man. The Epps' landlord suspects and tries to manipulate them, only to become deeply embroiled himself. When the next two murders are staged to make it appear that the Machete Man and his victim have killed each other, the village gives a collective sigh of relief and relaxes its guard.

Only Pender suspects the solution might not be quite so simple. Then a six-year old girl disappears and Pender himself comes close to being a victim before the mystery is solved. A gruesome chiller that could have you looking over your shoulder on a dark night.