When very rich lawyer Andy Carpenter isn't being such a crackup and wiseguy, he can be as serious a threat to criminals not yet in the courtroom as to himself in the pursuit of facts. In the case of his latest client, Daniel Cummings, a star reporter accused by the Paterson, N.J. police force of being a killer, the lawyer is discomfited by his own doubts, which continue to dog him even though Cummings turns out to be the son of pal Vince Sanders, the newspaper publisher-boss of the accused, who not only hired Carpenter to take the case, but called in a favor to overcome any reticence.

It's one of those cases that makes Andy, a man with a very large bank balance thanks to a huge inheritance, wish for more time with Tara, his canine companion, Laurie, his semi-live-in lover and staff investigator, and his new TV set. Instead, he devotes a great deal of time to unravel the complex mystery of serial killings in which the only things in common are that the victims are women who have had their hands cut off.

Confounding the matter is a killer who has been apparently using the star reporter as a messenger, giving him the advance scoop on each murder, producing sensational headlines. But, when Cummings is found unconscious near the latest body, the cops lock him up pronto. Andy, who has to somehow prove Cumming's innocence, is as beguiled by the sheer illogic of so many details of the case and its odd string of deaths as the police are not.

For one thing, if Cummings is innocent, then the killer has framed him. But why, then, during the trial, is there another killing that proves his innocence?

Author David Rosenfelt, the marketing president for Tri-Star Pictures in a former life, creates a lawyer character who, while untouchably rich, is also richly endowed with enough fallibility and wry humor (on a comical wavelength with colleague Robert B. Parker) to make him fully and uniquely engaging. His love for his dog can't be touched in the literature and the way he wonders why his beautiful lover never mentions marriage carries as an emotional theme to the very last page.

Here's a moment: "Laurie makes dinner, and afterward she suggests that we go to the den to play some gin. I think she does so as a way to boost my self-confidence, since she is the worst gin player that has ever lived. She speculates to the point that she takes cards with no regard to whether or not she needs them; I think she just goes by whether she likes the color or the pictures. I have always been an outstanding gin player, memorizing every card played and never taking an unnecessary chance.

"We play five racks, and she wins only four.

"With that confidence boost behind me, I take Tara for our walk."