Any book by John D. MacDonald that does not have a colour in the title suffers before I've even read it by not being a Travis McGee book. I know that's not entirely fair, but his Travis McGee books are what I love. (And his book about his cats. You have to love it when a hardboiled mystery writer spends an entire book telling you about his cats. And his goose.)
The Price of Murder is not a Travis McGee novel. Let's get that straight. But it's still good hardboiled crime fiction, with a provocative cast. (I found the psychotic character actively uncomfortable to read.)
Unlike many of the McGee books, the women in this one are slightly cardboard-y. They're all the type of dame who would walk over your body for a wad of cash (except for one policeman's wife, who shows up twice.) And who enjoy rough sex and being knocked around a little. This part I was not so enthralled with.
But it's a solid read, but if you haven't read any or all of the Travis McGee series, read those before you resort to the rest of his oeuvre. Unless you want to hear about polydactyl cats. (And you probably do!)