Equivocal Death.

Equivocal Death Amy Gutman Little, Brown and Co. Time Life Bldg. 1271 Sixth Ave. New York, NY 10020 320 pp., $24.95

"Equivocal" may have been the best word to use in the title of this book--it describes perfectly how the reader feels upon reaching the last page. This first novel from Amy Gutman, who graduated from Harvard Law School with honors and practiced for four years in New York, tries to do far too many things at once. No one likes an overachiever.

The plot revolves around a 26-year-old female protagonist, Kate Paine, who's too dull to be a heroine. The Harvard Law grad is an associate at a powerful corporate firm, where all the women are pretty and well-dressed and sport the same sleek bob. The author emphasizes the bright lights and big city by listing the characters' status products: Chanel No. 19, Zabar's purchases, Tahari suits, a Mercedes SL300, Starbucks Gold Coast Blend. Tone set, she commences a plot that twists and tangles and ultimately requires her to cut out some snarls, letting them drop without resolution.

Kate is asked to assist name partner Carter Mills and another partner, Madeleine Waters, in representing a magazine publisher and corporation in a sexual harassment suit brought by the publisher's secretary. Waters is murdered, and potential suspects start crawling out of the woodwork. The "equivocal death" comes later when it looks like Mills commits suicide, but there's too much going on by then to hark back to the title.

In its bare bones, the plot is skillful and wraps up with a surprise, but the author has loaded on the trappings. In her quest for meaning, she pins some glaringly symbolic names on the firm, called Samson & Mills (alluding to the mighty biblical Samson and philosopher John Stuart Mill, who stressed the surface order of things?). Hercules is the hairdresser who cuts and styles for all the firm women. The protagonist, saddled with the surname Paine, is allegedly still suffering two years after the end of an affair but evokes little sympathy. She is so weak-willed and passive we wonder why her boyfriend didn't leave her sooner.

Gutman confuses the reader by assigning minor characters names and telling us what they had for breakfast. Then, they vanish from the story, but the reader is uncertain whether it's OK to forget them.

Some characters that should be developed are not. For example, a homicide detective appears in the beginning, and we think we're getting to know her because we read her thoughts about Kate: "the sleek young woman ... elegant clothes, luxurious office, and yet Valencia sensed a sadness beneath the veneer." However, this is just a device to give us the author's thoughts about Kate. We don't see Valencia again until the final few chapters, where it looks like she's going to have something to do, but she doesn't.

Kate also mentors a student, who we learn all about, although Kate--as the least involved, patient, or understanding mentor ever--never does. Then, the student wanders off without telling us where she's going or why she came.

Good mystery writers salt the stew with some red herrings, but Gutman's a little indiscriminate at the fish market. Although she picks some fine specimens--a strange blind date, an ex-husband--readers are left picking a lot of bones from their teeth.

For the general audience, the author is careful to explain even the most commonplace legal concepts, and attorneys will enjoy the spot-on portrayal of big-firm life. The main plot is clever enough to hold the attention of inveterate murder-mystery readers, but they may lose patience with extraneous characters and subplots that pop in and out like in-laws at holidays.

If there's a second Gutman novel, she should focus on fleshing out the important characters and balancing pivotal and decorative details. I'll look for her next book, but I hope it's one with a character who's not a Paine.

Rebecca Porter is an associate editor of TRIAL.