What might there be in author James Burke's memory and makeup to cause him to create such a tortured character as Dave Robicheaux? Fiercely on the side of justice, the suspended lawman's a guy who'd rather do good than submit to the the powerfully bad feelings he gets from a certain kind of criminal, but there are times when his temper just gets the better of his cooler nature.

His feelings are typically strong on both ends of the spectrum, and they are powerfully aroused by a mysterious young beauty named Ida Durbin. The mystery starts when he and brother Jimmie take a long swim off the beach at Galveston Island to the third sandbar, just before the dropoff at the continental shelf, and find themselves in the company of sharks. By the time they realize that their options have been reduced to a suicide swim for shore, a voice calls out and Ida Durbin appears on a raft of inner tubes.

No wonder the brothers can't stop thinking about their angelic rescuer and want to do something by way of reward or gratitude. But Ida's a person neither of the boys has come up against before. Every attempt to express the magnitude of their thanks or to suggest affection is rebuffed by the elusive and desirable teenager who fronts with such self-containment. Johnnie gets so wrapped-up emotionally that finding out she's a hooker on infamous Post Office Street being pimped by a scuzball named Lou Kale is beyond his ability to deal with all at once, but it doesn't stop his pursuit.

When he learns of her dream to become a country singer, he pays off the pawn debt on her cherished Mandolin and convinces her to give up the life. He buys two one-way tickets out of town. When he goes to the bus station to meet up, she's not there, and the rumors about her fate and Jimmie's fantasies start to fly. If Kale & Co. caught up with her she could be dead. From then on, through the years, every country tune with a Mandolin-backed female voice is proof, to Johnnie, of Ida's continued existence and her dream realized, rumors to the contrary notwithstanding.

Dave, on the other hand, was prone to put her out of mind, but events have a way of keeping memories vivid. In this case, it's his hospital visit to Troy Bordelon, an old bully from his boyhood days who asked to see him. In a deathbed confession and apologies for his sins, Bordelon tells Dave that his uncle, a cop in Galveston, was one of the men who snatched up a whore at the bus station years ago, about the time of Ida's disappearance. No, he doesn't know her name; no, he didn't see them kill her but, "I saw blood on a chair," he says.

The passage of the information is a fertile seed that sprouts corruption and vice, starting with the appearance of two suspiciously dirty sheriff deputies out in the parking lot wanting to find out what Troy might have told Dave. When Dave is treated to repeat visits by the same "peace" officers, the questions become more insistent and threatening. Dave is realizing that the rednecks are probably on the payroll of the arrogant and ruthless Valentine Chalons, a patrician with real estate and other holdings on Postoffice Street. Violence is brewing. Someone in high places wants the case to remain smothered.

When he comes to Helen Soileau, Dave's old tough-talking well built colleague and the parish's first female sheriff, and asks for his shield back in order to make his investigation into the disappearance of one Ida Durbin official, she refuses to rehire him... until she sees him in the emergency room in the aftermath of a beating by a nylon-stockinged attacker.

There was a time the guy wouldn't have stood a chance, but Dave is 60 now. His grief over his wife Bootsie's death isn't over, but he can recognize a woman he can love again when he meets Molly Boyle, who doesn't want to be called, "sister" even if everyone thinks she's a nun because she works closely with the church. This is a new emotional chapter in Dave's life as he faces the dangerous brothel owners and the apparently unrelated case of a serial killer on the loose in the environs of New Iberia.

Fortunately, Dave -- as much a product of his beloved bayou country of Louisiana as the author -- enjoys comradeship, counting in a boss who calls him "Streak" and obviously bears him more love and admiration than scorn for bad behavior. There's also his ex-partner and protective buddy, Clete, "like a unicorn on purple acid crashing good-naturedly through a clock shop." And, then, there's Val Chalons' erotically weird sister, Honoria. "The redness of her mouth and the mole next to it as inviting as a poisonous flower," writes Burke in a language that makes his novel the work of a vivid imagist, as much of southern atmosphere as violent onslaught.

Oh, there's much poetic description and thriller suspense to be enjoyed here for crime readers and Robicheaux followers.