Stevie Cameron does here what she is known for: she delves. This time it’s into the lives of Montreal tax lawyer Bruce Verchere and his wife Lynne – and a myriad of other characters drawn, over the years, into their world. The Blue Trust was a tax shelter, set up for Bruce and Lynne’s two sons David and Michael, a safeguard for wealth well into their futures.

The book opens with a death. We do not know who has died, but we do know that there is tragedy, there is sorrow, and that the neighbours are watching in morbid curiosity. Indeed, this is the perfect melodramatic beginning to a sensationalist account of one man’s obsession with money and the lengths to which he will go to secure wealth. The story shifts quickly – we don’t find out who dies, but are drawn into Bruce’s early adult life, his relationship with Lynne, his developing law career, and his remarkable ability to create a complex web of financial havens for the heavily taxed.

Cameron’s story has the makings of a real gripper – it’s an interesting tale, leaving the reader speechless at the damage one person can do to so many others. But Cameron’s writing style leaves much to be desired – it is sloppy, littered with familiar language, poor sentence structure, and suffers from a general lack of sophistication. For example, she writes: “In Montreal, he got rid of an employee he suspected of having an affair with her [Lynne], though the very idea was preposterous to the employee. Bruce didn’t care. Good-bye.” One word sentences, sentences without verbs – Cameron writes as though she is having a conversation, but only one person is talking.

What is most troublesome about the book, however, is the the extent to which it uses gossip. Credit is given to Cameron’s research associate, Rod Macdonell, who on the title page and on the dust jacket is referred to as an investigative journalist. One cannot help but chuckle at this after taking in the number of times someone quoted in the book is unnamed, described as “a friend,” “an acquaintance,” or “an associate.” Indeed, maybe these sources did not wish to be identified, but at the same time, the reader is led to question the book’s credibility. Why should one’s skills as an investigative journalist be touted if the investigation looks less than thorough?

We do discover who died – 270 pages later. But Cameron has not created an atmosphere of suspense. Rather, she espouses the sensationalism for which tabloids are so well known – only hers is more than 300 pages long instead of a mere few paragraphs.