From Publishers Weekly Birmingham ( Our Crowd ; America's Secret Aristocracy ) may have spent much of his career chronicling the mores of the elite， but his rich are different from you and me chiefly in that no one could mistake them for anything but characters in a potboiler. Here， he starts out viably enough， reporting the death of Sy Tarkington， the super-wealthy founder of a legendary New York store that serves the so-called carriage trade. We learn that the circumstances surrounding Sy's death are mighty questionable; that Sy's idiosyncratic accounting practices may have been a screen for near-bankruptcy; that Sy was cheating on his stalwart， blue-blooded wife with the store's dashing jewelry buyer; that his life prior to founding the store is a complete mystery even to his own children; that he has ties to the underworld; and so on. The effort of juggling all these chestnuts exhausts Birmingham. While he can handle some of them with dexterity (Sy's emporium is an especially well-conceived arena)， he frequently surrenders to soap-opera stereotypes and stock dialogue， or resolves plotting problems with lots of coincidences. By the time he orchestrates a finale， however， his vigor has deserted him altogether and he wraps up loose ends (even important ones， such as who killed Sy Tarkington) without so much as a gesture at believability. Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information， Inc. --This text refers to the Hardcover edition. From Kirkus Reviews Latest in Birmingham's infatuations with other peoples' lives (Shades of Fortune， 1989， etc.)--here in another of his popular tales of Manhattan mensch on the move， with shaky pasts and glittery presents， their women and their well-kept secrets. This time， the death of a famous retail magnate turns out to have been murder， and it's his daughter who'll save both the endangered business and her own self-esteem as her father's past steams open. Silas Tarkington (n‚ Solomon Tarcher)， founder and owner of Tarkington's--a Fifth Avenue emporium for the super-rich/super- chic--is found floating in his Long Island mansion's swimming pool. But Silas， it seems， was in perfect health--and why did second wife Consuela， who found the body， call a doctor friend a half-hour away instead of 911? Meanwhile， Silas's daughter Miranda， always discouraged by her father from a career in the store， accepts with pleasure the invitation of Silas's right-hand man， handsome Tommy Bonham， to be a partner in administering Tarkington's. Silas' son by his first wife， however， is not mentioned in the will， and neither is Moses Minskoff， a gross chewer of dead cigars， telephone glued-to-ear--a combo of Bugsy Siegel and Fibber Fox， given to toss off wonders like ``entre vous'' and ``tempo fugit， as the fella says.'' This Birmingham cartoon， broad as a meat axe， has had a lot to do with the rise of Silas Tarkington. Now， out of the mists of the past， arise: ancient mother Rose and sister Simma， as well as a mysterious lady in a West End Avenue brownstone， her hand out for a monthly payment personally delivered by Silas. While Miranda suffers and wonders about Dad's women in and out of wedlock， a nice journalist begins to help Miranda snoop--successfully. An agreeable enough mystery enlivened by Birmingham's sense of intimacy with the scene. The author's following--carriage-to-subway trade--is a given. -- Copyright ©1993， Kirkus Associates， LP. All rights reserved. --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.