Nesbo (with the tricky-fonted o I cannot do) is a wicked plotter -- right up until the last 50 or so pages, when he never perfectly sticks the ending.
It's a(nother) helluva good read. I was particularly impressed by the way three--or even four, or maybe five--separate storylines are juggled, with perfect timing, a master magician's precision about what to show, and when. There's a heist, that's gone wrong; a former lover of Harry's, who's apparently a suicide; a fellow detective with a dead father, also a cop, tied to the Romany con who might be able to unpack a bunch of these stories, who's also related to the suicide.... and there's the lingering homicide from the last novel, involving a colleague (loved, now dead) and a colleague (despised, culpable, still a villainous force to be reckoned with). You don't have
to have read the prior novel... but it'd sure help.
And then there's Harry, a helluva protagonist: alcoholic, brooding (but thank god not ponderous), anti-authorian, but also funny, sweet.
What do I mean about the ending? Well... there's a lot of explaining. It's a little too-neatly-wrapped; I never trust a present without some wrinkles or ugly tape, and Nesbo can be a little too intent on getting the bow on top just right.
But whine whine: it's a great series, becoming more rewarding the better I know Harry.