'Subway Slayings' by C.S. Poe
- Dec 3, 2025
- 2 min read
Author: C.S. Poe
Rating: B-
Vibe: Gritty subway procedural with Victorian photography and slow-burn tension
Everett Larkin is back from medical leave and immediately pulled into a grim discovery: human remains in the New York subway system, accompanied by a Victorian-era postmortem photograph that echoes the "Death Mask Murders" from the first book, Madison Square Murders. The case ties into an old unsolved killing, and once again, Larkin calls on forensic artist Ira Doyle for help. What follows is a procedural investigation through the labyrinth beneath Manhattan—and a quieter, more deliberate exploration of what's building between the two detectives.
This one's darker. The murders are uglier, the stakes feel higher, and Poe isn't shying away from the weight of the subject matter. I appreciated that—it signals ambition, and it gives the book a grittier edge. But with that darkness comes an identity crisis I couldn't quite shake.
Here's the thing: the first book set up Larkin as a genius detective. The kind of investigator whose perfect memory and razor-sharp perception would deliver those gasp-worthy reveals. But in Subway Slayings, that promise doesn't quite pay off. Instead, the book leans into procedural territory—methodical police work, interviews, slow accumulation of evidence. That's a perfectly fine genre. I grew up on Jonathan Kellerman. But if you're going to give me a protagonist whose brain is supposed to work differently, I want to see it. I want the twist at the end to make me feel like I missed what Larkin caught. That didn't happen here. The resolution felt earned through legwork, not brilliance—and that's a different kind of satisfaction than what the series seemed to promise.
The romance, though, has improved. Larkin and Doyle's connection feels slower this time, more grounded. Less love-at-first-sight, more there's something here, let's see if it holds. That shift toward realism worked for me. Watching them navigate intimacy when one of them struggles with emotional expression—that's interesting territory, and Poe handles it with care.
I'll keep reading this series. There's enough here to hold my attention: strong atmosphere, a distinctive protagonist, and a relationship I'm invested in seeing develop. But I wish the book would pick a lane. Genius detective with showstopping reveals? Great. Gritty procedural with methodical pacing? Also great. Both at once, without fully committing to either? That's where it loses me.
