Edward Loy is a private detective that returns to Dublin for his mothers funeral, and afterward, Linda, an old friend, asks him to have a drink...then she asks him to find her husband. That seemingly simple task turns quickly disastrous, and soon takes Ed back to a time before he was born to figure out why people are being killed. No one is who they seem, betrayal and dissimulation are there at every turn, and through it all, Ed has wade through his own feelings and grief to confront the seemingly impossible.
Of course, the story is also not without the subtle Irish humor...
Then he looked up at me, his face a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
"We've decided I'm an alcoholic," he said. "Apparently that's easier than deciding we just don't like each other anymore."
"Would you like a drink then?" I said.
"Fucking sure I would," he said.
Overall, it is a rough story, but for those that like the dark side of Irish crime fiction, Declan Hughes pretty much nails it.
The Wrong Kind of Blood