Gottlieb was trying way too hard with this. I think the most often used note I have in my kindle copy of this book is "blechh" or "very blechh" (read as Alfred E Neuman please). These "blechh"s are peppered throughout when Gottlieb tried to educate the reader. Even if I granted him the evolutionary psych stuff upon which his "erudite" Lawrence character is based, it was so overtly stuffed down my face as to require a "blechh" every few pages (and no, as a social psychologist I am fundamentally unable to grant him any credit whatsoever towards his proposed evolutionary psych theories on physiognomy. I'm sorry, but reading my personality from my scalp went out of fashion along with ouija boards 'round about the Victorian period).
Gottlieb also occasionally attempted poetic and philosophical (also earning him "blechh"): "Behind him were the ranked rows of liquor bottles, lit from below and glowing like isotopes." or "psychic feints and dodges were as familiar to him as anything he knew, and it was fitting that, according to historical script, they would be taking place in the emotional epicenter of the home: the kitchen." Sorry, but this is just not a literary book. It is a plot driven attempt at suspense.
Unfortunately, the plot is not very good. It was fairly transparent (early on I figured out that there was only one female character...she must be the same person!). It is also totally unbelievable. Lawrence hates Margot simply because she wants him? What? Up until the point that he pushes her down the stairs (really because she is now not in lust with him, but just trying to sell him something) why is he so angry? All the cops that Potash encounters tell him useful info that is supposed to be confidential. What? And even Margot, after escaping, is able to somehow pay the taxi that takes her to the bank and allows her to access her security deposit box. Where did she get her id and wallet? Oh yeah, and Dan France is in love with her too? It is just all so ridiculous.
Overall not worth the time (despite being rather short); just not very interesting or compelling.