Fat Ollie Weeks is a detective in the 88th Precinct. For lunch he orders four hamburgers, two sides of fries, two glasses of milk, and a blueberry pie with a double scoop of vanilla ice cream. His W.C. Fields imitation is world-class. A lot more flab than muscle, he's a little too Falstaffian to carry the 52nd book (as in fifty-effing-two) in an essential series, now in its fifth decade, that has until recently cast him in a supporting role. This isn't the book that those new to McBain should start with, but readers well-acquainted with his unmatched 87th Precinct novels can expect the usual fresh surprises from the still-frisky wordsmith and his immortal gang of regulars (Steve Carella, Bert Kling, Eileen Burke, et al.), even though they're relegated to backup.