Missing Westlake's Richard Stark Crime Novels? Try Charles Salzberg, MAN ON THE RUN

 

[Originally posted at New York Journal of Books]

“Crime fiction readers may think they know what’s ahead, based on other noir work. But Salzberg is way funnier and more unpredictable himself, and the ride with the podcaster and the master thief—and the obsessed cop—takes great twists.”

 

How do you like your noir crime fiction served? If you mark the checkboxes for unpredictable, twisty, fast-paced, wry, mocking, and “with a side of dark humor,” by all means order up Charles Salzberg’s mystery Man on the Run.

 

If fact, the humor is much more than a “side” for this seasoned author. Even the premise, revealed in alternating points of view, comes with a feeling of “how come nobody thought of this sooner?” And there you have it—even the review begins to sound like Francis Hoyt, an expert in burglary and pressing the “scary psycho” buttons when he wants to spook someone and get them to leave him.

 

But that’s not really his motive in ambushing a true-crime podcaster as she’s coming out of a California coffee shop. Francis is turned on by the off-beat confidence he sees in Dakota Richards (and her lack of a bra, her pixie features, that hint of a previously broken nose). Francis Hoyt is a predator at heart, but his decision to tease this would-be journalist means he gets a new kind of attention, and frankly, he wants it.

What about Dakota? Sure, she recognizes the mythically capable criminal and fugitive. It’s her business! But she knows enough to play it cool. Besides, she’s already fascinated by what he’s like in person. Small, neat, compact. And she should be careful:

 

“He’s also got this palpable sense of danger thing about him. And it’s not because I know who he is and what he’d done. He’s just, like, like dangerous looking. And there’s something else. It’s in his eyes. Intelligence. … There’s something going on behind those eyes, something that only adds to this sense of danger that surrounds him.”

 

If that sounds like a classic tough-girl-lusts-after-bad-boy plot opening, you’re underestimating Salzberg: He’s in here for the darkness, the quirkiness. And how do you ramp that up? First, add a job, a bank to rob where even thinking about the task could get you into the crosshairs of the mob bosses who own it. Next, in the tradition of pushing your protagonists to their limits, Salzberg drops a retired state investigator, Charlie Floyd, into the middle of it all.

 

Actually, credit Dakota with both appearances, since she deliberately involved the two antagonists in her plans for a compelling podcast: She trailed hints about doing a piece on Francis, to the point where she knew he’d want to get into the reality show. Plus, she tracked down Charlie Floyd with every intention of aiming him at Hoyt. And as her own fascination with Francis Hoyt balloons, she clear-sightedly scolds herself for becoming “that sad, pathetic, desperate woman who falls for the guy in prison.” Except she’s actually fallen for risk and danger, the ultimate comeback to her mother’s snarky criticisms. She knows she’s got a hot podcast already: “I was stalked by Francis Hoyt and lived to tell the tale. How’s that for a show-stopping teaser?”

 

Crime fiction readers may think they know what’s ahead, based on other noir work. But Salzberg is way funnier and more unpredictable himself, and the ride with the podcaster and the master thief—and the obsessed cop—takes great twists, all the way to the very delightful finale. 

 

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here. 
 

Brief Mention: Light-Hearted French-Countryside Cozy, DEATH AND CROISSANTS by Ian Moore

Did you seriously consider turning part of your home into an Air-type bed-and-breakfast right before the pandemic? Are you still longing to jump into the short-term rental market to make some cash on the side? Or (confess now) have you always pictured yourself baking marvelous muffins and serving them to international guests who leave glowing comments on your Yelp listing?

DEATH AND CROISSANTS by Ian Moore will save you a lot of trouble (and apron laundry). Set in France and written with a clever and light touch by British stand-up comedian Ian Moore, it offers all the complications of running a bed & breakfast, complete with complaints, crabby clients, fraud and failed payments, and most of all, apparent murder.

Richard Aisworth is still not sure what's going on with his marriage, since both his wife and his daughter have left him to manage the B&B, and both seem to cordially despise him and his passion for old films. At least his chickens (their fresh eggs are a feature of his inn) don't disappoint ... until  they begin to vanish, and one is clearly killed as a message.

His personal complications with his guest Valérie, well-intentioned though they may be, tangle quickly with the bloody handprints, mysterious messages, and multi-village chase scenes. So if you're ready for a fun and deliciously French addition to your summer TBR stack, fix yourself a pitcher of something fresh and cold, open up the hammock or lawn chair, and settle in with your copy. 

[This is Moore's American debut, but there are more titles in his series; cross your fingers that they will soon come "across the pond."]

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here. 

Carrie Doyle Spins Another Quirky, Fun Mystery: THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGONFRUIT TATTOO

The third Plum Lockhart mystery in the Trouble in Paradise series is at least as much fun as its predecessors, It Takes Two to Mango and Something's Guava Give. At first glance, Plum's plunge into entrepreneurship with her own villa rental company on the tropical island of Paraiso looks rash and foolish -- and could anyone really be such a murder magnet as this scrappy yet star-struck amateur sleuth?

But Plum can grow on a person! A refugee from corporate marketing and the now outdated world of New York City magazines, Plum is determined to salvage her self-esteem by out-competing the very nasty Damian Rodriguez in representing the best villa rentals on the island. If that means making nice with the glitterati on a luxury yacht in the neighborhood, Plum has the guts to do it.

When one of the staffers from the yacht wants to consult her about a deadly threat, Plum has trouble clearing time for this distraction. So when the girl with the dragonfruit tattoo gets attacked, is it Plum's fault? She'll clear some emotional space by dressing down one of the sleazy men on board:

"I don't like your behavior, Joel," said Plum, who crossed her arms angrily for effect. "You are humiliating your wife. Everyone on the boat watches you flirt outrageously with an actress young enough to be your daughter. It's pathetic. I hate what you are doing to my friend, and you should remember you're a married man in a position of power and not exploit it."

The left vein on Joel's temple started to throb, and Plum thought it might explode.

Doyle's plotting, as usual, is tight, and the action sparkling; if Plum's combination of courage and naivety stilts some of her trilled or whispered conversation and moves the plot twists to the quirky side, it's a fair trade for the fun of discovering how she'll handle the next intensely awkward situation. Not to mention whether she'll ever have a functioning romance with Juan Kevin, the security guard who's been trying to date her!

Don't take anything seriously in THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGONFRUIT TATTOO. All the fun and frivolity may not give you the feel of a tropical vacation ... but a few hours away from real life might be almost as good as one of the many fruity cocktails that Plum keeps swigging.

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

A Guide to London from Christopher Fowler's Peculiar Crimes Unit—So Much Fun!

 [Originally published at New York Journal of Books]

“Fowler reports that his literary agent said (with delight) ‘Oh, it’s a Bryant & May book, just without the murder plot!’”

 

After 18 books full of the London detection adventures of 80-year-old Arthur Bryant and his partner John May (not as elderly and far more modern), Christopher Fowler allows his eccentric pair to lay out their very unusual knowledge of London for readers ready for a distinctively different travel guide.

 

Most importantly, this volume does not attach to specific investigations of the Peculiar Crimes Unit—a “venerable specialist police team … founded during the Second World War to investigate cases that could cause national scandal or public unrest” (Fowler’s website). Instead, it’s a delightfully ridiculous and historically rich set of explorations of the aspects of London that might be missed by a conventional tour guide: specifics of many, many pubs. Reading the book takes far longer if you pause to look up, say, the Lamb & Flag public house in Covent Garden; the pub’s very real website even shows the narrow passageway at the entrance described by Arthur Bryant. The menu includes buffalo-milk ice cream. (It’s shocking that Bryant misses this detail on his tour, but then again, the point of a public house for the PCU members involves an alcoholic beverage and British traditional dishes, right?)

 

DCI John May interrupts on occasion to remind Arthur of details like how to record on a cassette tape and what a mobile cell phone is called (Arthur calls it a walkie-phone), and sometimes to lend an air of almost normality among the 475 pages. Others making cameo appearances include co-workers and of course Raymond Land, head of the PCU. Land’s introduction includes such snarky comments as “If you’re still planning to read this volume of rambling conversations with half-mad friends, good luck to you. I reckon it’s your last chance to dodge a bullet but what do I know, I’m only the Unit chief. You’re big enough to look after yourselves. Don’t come complaining to me.”

 

Fowler reports that his literary agent said (with delight) “Oh, it’s a Bryant & May book, just without the murder plot!” Contrariwise, consider it a murder mystery that’s expanded its setting details to a highly realistic 475 pages (yes, that’s the second time mentioning the book size; how long was the last travel guide you carried? not the one on your walkie-phone, please). And where else can you find a page of “Bryantisms” all put together as a resource?

 

By now it should be clear that this book will be quite confusing to those who haven’t read at least one PCU mystery in the past. But there’s nothing wrong with a good factual compilation of London guided tour detail, heavy on the history, and wryly confusing, is there?

 

After all, where else can you find Arthur Bryant explaining London’s (non-pub-related) strength: “For every Terence Rattigan, Elizabeth Bower or George Eliot, there’s always a disreputable, struggling rebel writer seeking like-minded individuals. … For a bookish chap like me, Great Britain is a paradise.”

 

Besides, who else but Arthur Bryant is going to list for you the notables cremated at the Golders Green Crematorium? Fear not, he claims he’s not about to vanish into retirement or leave his city: “London is like a greedy old landlady. She didn’t ask me to come, didn’t invite me to stay, and won’t miss me when I’ve left. And that suits me fine.”

 

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here. 

 

Set a Thief to Catch a Thief, Rock'N Roll Style: ROCK OF AGES from Timothy Hallinan

Hurrah, the new Junior Bender mystery, ROCK OF AGES, is released today! This rollicking crime and caper novel from Timothy Hallinan unfolds one of the goofiest propositions Junior (his real name) Bender has ever received: Aging mobster Irwin Dressler wants the professional Hollywood thief to unravel fraud and murder inside a tour of 1960s-era rock bands.

You might think Junior could just say "not my area" and duck out. But that would reveal that you haven't read enough of Hallinan's addictive Junior Bender series --- because remember reading somewhere that Hollywood's beginnings involved big money from at least one crime syndicate, and that even today where there's movie money, there's graft? Well, Irwin Dressler is the most frightening and capable of all the possible money men on the spot. Just his name is enough to set grown criminals shaking in their shoes. And Junior, although he's on decent terms with the mobster and his staff, can't say no unless he wants to risk his own life and his family. 

Lest you mistake the book title for something, umm, preachy, listen up: The multiple-band tour of drug-worn, alcohol-slurping geriatrics has the name "Rock of Ages" because the investors all had a stake in these bands back in the day, or even dreamed of singing in them. And all the investors on this tour are criminal creeps themselves. With Dressler the creepiest and most powerful.

That is, he WAS the most powerful. But at least one of his co-investors this time thinks Dressler's over the hill, toothless, and that stealing the money from the tour (modestly successful) should be a piece of cake. Junior's job is to make sure that cake thing is just bait in a big nasty trap.

All this would make a rocking caper novel on its own -- but Hallinan's special touch is the family love (with complications) that drives each of his protagonists. In Junior's case, he's finally got some real time with his teen daughter Rina, with ex-wife Kathy skeptical, and Rina herself pushing Junior to finally explain to her how he makes his living and what his adventures (dangers?) are like.

And just as Daddy-Daughter bonding weekend starts, Dressler applies the screws to Junior.

Mind you, he does his best to protect Rina while he's investigating and maneuvering. It should be safe enough for her to sit in the audience, right? Well, maybe not ... but at least one of the groupies, the elderly but very hip Lavender, is willing to sort of babysit or, umm, teen-sit.

So when danger runs rampant and deaths multiply, Junior urges Rina to stay hidden in the popcorn room with Lavender, with the door locked. He'll rap a pre-arranged code on the door when he comes to get them. He's underestimated how smart and sardonic his daughter is. Rina says to him:

"So, umm, you don't think that anyone else in the world might just knock twice, like for 'two bits'? I mean, that's sort of the default, isn't it? I always knock—"

"This is what happens when I get to clever. I'll just say, 'Hey Rina,' okay?"

"Can't you just hang up on him?" Lavender asked in the background. "I'm not going to live forever."

"I love her," Rina said. "Bye, Dad."

She loved her. I'd had my daughter for less than one day and she'd seen an attempted murder, spotted one of the most terrifying crazies since the Spanish Inquisition, and fallen in love with a groupie from the 1960s. This was probably not what [Rina's mom] Kathy had in mind.

Don't get distracted by all the side-splitting caper humor ... there's serious crime going on here, and as a dedicated mystery reader, your task is to see who's responsible and how to get Rina and Junior out of there alive (without Kathy being ready to kill Junior herself). Because Junior isn't exactly finding the key to do it.

Not yet a reader of this series? No sweat, jump into this one for the kicks and giggles, then go grab the earlier titles. Each one has a great twist and marvelous dynamics.

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Elderly and Wicked! Darkly Funny Murder from Helene Tursten in AN ELDERLY LADY MUST NOT BE CROSSED

 

[Originally published in New York Journal of Books]

“If you’re looking for distinctive international bouquet in your “Scandi noir,” this isn’t going to fit your shelf. Instead, it will be a dandy holiday gift, pocket size, darkly light-hearted, and a quick and easy introduction to the tongue-in-cheek side of one of today’s leading Swedish crime novelists.”

HeleneTursten summons her two established Swedish sleuths from two different series, Irene Huss and Embla Nyström, to tackle the wicked machinations of 88-year-old Maud in An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed, a holiday treat that will make a great stocking stuffer. Maud’s debut appearance in 2018’s An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good demonstrated that a stack of cleverly twisted short stories can comprise a delightful book. Tursten’s choice to pit her two detectives against this frankly wicked old lady adds to the dark humor of her newest tales.

For Maud, the pressure applied by the two police investigators as a team is the last straw: She’s successfully gotten away with murder in her own home, but it’s taken quite a lot of scheming and arranging, and she’d like a break. Why not treat herself to a luxury trip to South Africa, be wined and dined, see amazing wildlife, all while disguising her cleverness under the deceptive appearance of aging into confusion? People do so much work for you if you appear to be frail and needy, don’t they?

After the first tale, “An Elderly Lady Begins to Remember Her Past,” these dryly funny and dark stories form a mostly chronological sequence—starting with Maud as a child, caretaker of an 11-years-older sister with increasingly odd habits. Not that Maud herself is particularly normal! As she reflects during her flight to Africa, “Memories rise to the surface. That’s what happens when you get older.” We find the grim smiles of “little Maud” executing a trap for bullies; we also find her smiling as she rehearses her father’s fishing methods while making sure a competitive colleague will have a terrible accident.

“No point in brooding over the past,” Maud reassures herself. “Sometimes a person had to do certain things in order to survive the hard life of a single woman with a heavy responsibility to bear.”

In delightfully creepy steps, Maud develops her murderous personality through this set of six revelatory narratives. And if the ending is perhaps a little more sweet than an aging Maud has led us to anticipate, don’t neglect the pair of cookie recipes at the end of An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed. Innocent and sweet as they appear, one of them has been a murder weapon in Maud’s hands. But only, of course, because she was forced to use it!

Marlaine Delargy’s translation never gets in the way of the action in Tursten’s stories. On the other hand, it has little Swedish flavor to it, so if you’re looking for distinctive international bouquet in your “Scandi noir,” this isn’t going to fit your shelf. Instead, it will be a dandy holiday gift, pocket size, darkly light-hearted, and a quick and easy introduction to the tongue-in-cheek side of one of today’s leading Swedish crime novelists.

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Brief Mention: A "Trouble in Paradise" Mystery from Carrie Doyle, IT TAKE TWO TO MANGO

After reading Carrie Doyle's traditionally cozy country inn mysteries set in the Hamptons, IT TAKES TWO TO MANGO comes as a huge surprise -- because Plum Lockhart, thrust unexpectedly into a real estate job on a tropical island, is such an incredibly unlikeable character!

Reasons for her attitudes and behavior are quickly provided (her isolated childhood, rejection by her parents, etc.), but honestly, even Plum sometimes realizes she's never going to enjoy life or friendships, even in Paraiso. And what she's known as a scrappy New York magazine journalist isn't working for her.

Plum  quickly learned that having a fit or creating scene was not a successful approach to getting things done in Paraiso. An event like a crushed golf cart drew an enormous amount of resort personnel to stand and evaluate the scene and discuss endlessly what should be done before no one did anything. Things happened when they happened. And when Plum tried to hasten their reactions, she was met with the requisite "tranquilo."

A murder of one of her villa clients threatens Plum's employment, the security staffer she'd like to attract seems to see her emotional issues way too clearly, and her stylish New York City clothes are not suited to the humid warmth of the locale. Doyle's handling of the sea change that Plum needs in her life and her soul feels in a strange way like a grown-up recap of how an angry kid gets isolated in a school move. Some island type-casting also stings.

Yet Plum is so very injured in her temperamental behaviors that the book chapters are almost irresistible—so the suspense is not so much who killed the visitor, as ... how on earth will Plum adapt, and can she possibly do it before she has to turn tail and return to the city?

For light distraction and a chance to argue with the author in your thoughts, pick up this Poisoned Pen Press offering (first in a series) and tuck it into the beach bag. (Release date June 29.)

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

British Crime Fiction from Belinda Bauer, EXIT

[Originally published at New York Journal of Books]

“Pick up Exit if you’d like to sample a very new way of building a crime novel, with an unusual pace. It has something of Jasper Fforde in the compiled coincidences.”

The crimes embedded in Exit begin with an elderly man, missing his deceased wife and son and making do with a relatively unpleasant dog, in an English setting where nothing much looks like improving. However, Felix Pink has at least found a volunteer task in his retirement that gives some meaning and emotion to his days: As an “Exiteer,” he assists terminally ill people who’ve become ready to commit suicide, in a neat and anonymous fashion that allows the relatives of the deceased to assume that a natural death has taken place.

When Felix’s usual partner in this kindly and quiet labor pulls out of the group and a young woman arrives instead, he’s willing to show her how things should go. Except that nothing goes as expected in the death they’ve been called to facilitate, and the wrong person seems to have died. Although Felix, in a panic, leaves the scene, his quietly conventional morality insists that he should turn himself in, make a confession of his role, and see it all tidied up. However, this too turns out to be an unreliable expectation:

“Until now Felix had been quite sure of one thing—that when he was arrested the police would believe his version of events, because the evidence would support it. That he’d only have to tell them the trust to make them understand how the tragedy had unfolded.

But what if his truth was wrong?

What if some bit of evidence he’d missed or forgotten supported another truth entirely?

Then, killing the wrong man and fleeing the scene of the crime might not sound understandable at all.

It might just sound like murder.”

Both the British notes and the baffled protagonist develop something of the feel of Mole in Wind and the Willows: Felix has a very hard time developing insight, caution, and imagination, as the pieces of a crime frame assemble around him. Belinda Bauer forces a methodical pace of events matched to Felix’s expectations of his hitherto ordinary life, while the buildup of complications among a handful of characters (including the police investigators) pushed the pieces closer and closer to revelation.

“The young woman [constable] was crouched down in front of Felix now, looking anxiously into his face. She reached up and gently touched the lump on his head. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘What happened here?’

‘You should see the other guy,’ Felix whispered, and then he started to cry.”

Pick up Exit if you’d like to sample a very new way of building a crime novel, with an unusual pace. It has something of Jasper Fforde in the compiled coincidences, and more of the relentless yet methodical pace of, say, Mario Giordano or Oliver Potzsch. There’s humor here, but it is very, very dry, alternating with tender—with the kind of protagonist who may eventually have to “blow his nose with happiness.”

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

SLOUGH HOUSE: Mick Herron's 7th Tongue-in-Cheek London Spy Novel

If you live with other people, or have members of your pod stopping by while you're reading, you might want to warn them that you'll be reading the next Mick Herron "slow horses" espionage delight — the people in my living space kept showing up with the bewildered question, "You're reading a spy novel and you're laughing out loud??"

SLOUGH HOUSE builds on the escapades and character revelations of the previous books, and it's even funnier and, ironically, more heart-breaking if you've read the other titles (Slow Horses, Dead Lions, Real Tigers, Spook Street, London Rules, and Joe Country). But it's still an excellent and compelling read if you plunge into it as your first visit to "Slough House," the building and department where MI5 dumps its staff failures. An alcoholic, a dance-crazy coke addict, a brilliant hacker with an ardent fantasy life involving how "hot" he is, a despairing staffer who'd been framed for pedophilia (guess how fast his fiancée left him), and the espionage-born-and-bred River Cartwright himself, in some ways the straight man among these various delightful nut cases. Most of all, the department circles around its head of operations, Jackson Lamb, a deceptively fat and farting slob whose skills in espionage, sorting out international intrigue, and even attacking the opposition physically are far better than those of his treacherous superior, Diana Taverner.

Here's a classic moment as the team waits for Lamb to show at a planned meeting:

A door banged, not the one from the yard, but the toilet on the floor below. So Lamb had floated in and up several flights of stairs without fluttering a cobweb on the way. It was unnerving to picture him doing this, like imagining a tapir playing hopscotch. The smell of stale cigarettes entered the room a moment before him, and the slow horses made way for it, then Lamb, by shuffling to either side. He arrived among them shaking his head in wonderment. "What a dump."

... He threw himself into his chair, which, one happy day, was going to respond by disintegrating into a hundred pieces. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I was up late comforting a gay American dwarf."

It's quickly evident that only Lamb, despite his crude language and behavior, would have noticed and listened to the story of that American, who had showed up unexpectedly in a room full of ex-spies who were saying goodbye to an old-time espionage meeting place being closed down.

That attentiveness to small details that in fact reveal Russian operations in Britain is half of what Lamb excels at; the other important half is the way he shepherds his group of failed spies, people who can't be easily fired because they know too much, but can be corralled where they may not hurt serious business. Lamb's robust verbal abuse and bluntness feel humiliating, but also give the staff a focus beyond their own misery. 

Besides, Diana Taverner, head of MI5, has already done something far more humiliating to the "slow horses" department: set them up as targets for her own spies-in-training. Her mistake here is underestimating how far Lamb will go in response, to defend his bizarre team. But she's got problems, and would be the first to admit it: For Diana, "it turned out that the actual cost of having someone whacked remained one of those subjects too embarrassing to discuss in public, so that wasn't subjected to intense scrutiny either." And having set this up, funded by political forces she's misunderstood, Diana is in a serious mess ... and trying to pass the dirt downhill to Jackson Lamb's department. As she soon discovers, "that was the thing about shit, real or fake: once you'd begun spreading it about, it never ended up precisely where you wanted it."

Herron's espionage is highly realistic and well salted with views of the ridiculous — expect sudden guffaws or long laughs. (Good treatment for pandemic-induced depression.) Ironically or inevitably, it's also strung around some bizarre forms of love and loyalty in action. Plus Herron provides a crystal-clear view of modern British politics and even the American disaster. All of this makes SLOUGH HOUSE far more than a good read. It's worth reading twice, shelving, and pulling out again a few months later. Where else are you going to have so much fun while isolated and waiting for your vaccine? (Don't answer that. Listen to Jackson Lamb instead.)

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Fielding a New Author after M. C. Beaton's Passing, in HOT TO TROT (Agatha Raisin)

 [Originally published at New York Journal of Books]

“Viewed as a “debut novel” by R. W. Green, Hot to Trot is a fine first showing. Red herrings and plot twists and ridiculous moments of embarrassment abound, and the most important characters survive to rise again. Viewed as a continuation of M. C. Beaton’s oeuvre, results are a bit more iffy.”

Beloved author M. C. Beaton (née Marion Chesney) died in 2019, but not before testing “R. W. Green” as her potential fill-in. According to Green’s Foreword to Hot to Trot, Beaton asked for a “first sample chapter” for the book she had in mind, and found only one or two changes to make in the version Green wrote. Green continued, “I thoroughly enjoyed working with Marion and I am honoured that she trusted me to meddle with her characters. I will miss her more than I can say.”

Reader, be warned: Green does not duplicate Beaton’s writing style in the long run, although many of the plot points of Hot to Trot were clearly discussed before the original author’s passing. One, for example, was a road to riches for protagonist Agatha Beaton’s ex, Sir Charles Fraith. Clearly, the two writing collaborators also shared a sense of what was humorous about Agatha, and both adored her as a character.

That said, this book will not please all series fans, since both the tone of narrative voice and the particular shadings of the characters are definitely different. On the other hand, for those not yet attached to the series, or who just enjoy humorous crime fiction without strings to the “original,” this is a lively and entertaining read, with a few strands of puerile British humor like repeating the phrase “rumpy-pumpy” (apparently slang for jovially “getting laid”). Which actually, come to think of it, is perfectly fitting for a British romp through the country lanes of mystery.

The main point is that Sir Charles, still an object of Agatha’s exasperated affection, has made a terrible mistake in commiting to marry a power-hungry fortune chaser with legal clout: Miss Mary Brown-Fields. In spite of crashing the wedding, Agatha fails to halt the proceedings, and discovers that she truly hates “Lady Mary Fraith.”

Her friend Mrs. Bloxby comments over sherry, “So the battle lines are drawn. It is always very awkward trying to involve oneself in whatever goes on between a husband and wife.” Agatha’s response is, “Not for a private detective. It’s pretty much my professional stock in trade.”

Despite the humiliating arrest that follows, Agatha’s soon able to discover blackmail in progress, and begins a series of costume and persona shifts that dazzles the reader and reveals the crime underway. But the path to resolution is paved with further humiliations, mistakes, and even betrayals, all packed into a village mystery that shifts back and forth between comedy and tenderness.

Viewed as a “debut novel” by R. W. Green, Hot to Trot is a fine first showing. Red herrings and plot twists and ridiculous moments of embarrassment abound, and the most important characters survive to rise again. Viewed as a continuation of M. C. Beaton’s oeuvre, results are a bit more iffy. But as Agatha says at one point, “You could try to be a bit nicer to me. We are still on the same side, after all.”

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Brief Mention: Fine Caper Crime Novel, LITTLE SIBERIA by Antti Tuomainen

A would-be race-car driver attempts suicide by fast car on a winter road in Finland, when instead of crashing the way he'd planned, his car is ripped apart by a random meteorite.

Now that's an opening that no crime novel has ever come close to! And from here, award-winning Finnish suspense author Antti Tuomainen rolls his snowball through one caper twist after another. For instance, there the value of the meteor—and the people who want it. Not to mention the small town where it gets placed temporarily and notoriously.

Here's a sample of Tuomainen's mid-novel explication, from the local pastor's point of view—a man with serious doubts about his own life:

The meteorite will be in the War Museum for a further two nights.

The list of people keen to get their hands on it seems to grow as time runs out. As for Leonid, I am in no doubt. He wants the meteorite. Karolina wants the meteorite and is apparently willing to collaborate with me — the guard on the night shift — to get it. Leonid is in love with Karolina, a matter that raises a number of questions.

Is Karolina employing Leonid's help in order to achieve her goal? If she is, why does she want to involve me in her plans? And if she isn't, why has she stared a relationship with a man for whom she feels no attraction? ... I feel as though I know them too well to think of them as my pursuers, and too little to know what really moves and motivates them. Of course, that applies to everyone I know, including my own wife. I don't even know the people I know.

Two more nights.

If you've had enough of the depressive side of "Scandinavian noir," here's your opportunity to snicker, guffaw, smirk, and otherwise enjoy a lively, fast-moving crime novel of marvelously black humor. Hurrah for Orenda Books bringing Tuomainen across the ocean, and for the deft translation by David Hackston.

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Entertaining Roaring Twenties English Mystery, WHO'S SORRY NOW?, Maggie Robinson

Maggie Robinson's been a Maine author of historical romance fiction, but she's launched a fresh new series that's quintessentially English: her Lady Adelaide mysteries, clever and funny and garbed in the froth and fun of the upper-class across-the-Pond version of the Roaring Twenties.

In WHO'S SORRY NOW?, the second in the series, Lady Adelaide Compton, newly widowed at a quite young age (despite feeling SO much older than the Bright Young People around her), accompanies her younger sister to a raucus and slightly risqué club scene -- where she promptly engages in unofficially investigating a pair of murders that continue to multiply. Aided in this pursuit by a Scotland Yard inspector who's charmed by her and willing to give her room to probe the social set, Addie proves her mettle and her sharp sense of how to probe motives.

Remember the trio of motive, means, and opportunity? The scene that Robinson sets corrals them neatly, since everyone dying is part of a small group of friends, either wealthy or descended from collapsed wealth. Included and adding great panache to the group is the Russian Prince Alexei Andropov. And complicating Lady Adelaide's juggling of suitors and possible killers is the annoying presence of the ghost of her late husband, Major Rupert Compton.

Although Charles Todd has praised the series, the ghost here brings none of the gravitas of Todd's Inspector Rutledge series -- Major Rupert was a flying ace and is trying for access to heaven by helping his young widow solve crime! If that tickles your funnybone, tuck in for more entertainment. For example, when Addie's sister gets a lash of the poisoner's attack, Addie seeks the handsome (and Indian-heritage) Detective Inspector Devanand Hunter's permission to jump fully into the case, while Rupert's far too excited:

"Well done, my dear. It's just like old times. Fighting crime. Seeking justice." Rupert bounced up and down on the iron [hospital] bed and gave her a grin. He was still wearing the very same clothes she had buried him in.

She'd been lucky since January 1. Apparently her time was up. ...

"I know. It's most unsettling for you, me showing up again out of the blue. But think of me! Just when I was acclimating so nicely. ... I was rudely torn away again, without even a chance to discover my mission or shave—I know how you dislike my moustache. Never mind. Sacrifices must be made. Cee was in danger, and I know how fond you are of her. It was my duty."

What a speech. Addie's head spun. Did facial hair grow after one was dead? She'd heard ghastly things about fingernails. "How did you know it was poison?"

Rupert shrugged. "How do I know anything? It's a mystery. Or a miracle. You can thank me now."

Addie would have thrown a bedpan—empty or full—at him if one had been handy. But Rupert's words at the Savoy had made her act quickly.

Consider this the lighthearted version of a Jacqueline Winspear crime novel, or a feminine version of P. G. Wodehouse, come to think of it! Don't fight the fun ... just kick up your heels with the Charleston and keep an eye out for clues. [Published by the Poisoned Pen Press, now an imprint of Sourcebooks.]

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

San Juan Islands Mystery #2, AGAINST THE UNDERTOW, Bethany Maines

Bethany Maines admits she cares a lot about the entertainment tucked into the mysteries she writes -- she weaves clever grins into her plots as easily as the suspense. In the second book of her San Juan Islands Murder Mystery series, AGAINST THE UNDERTOW, displaced actress Tish (never Patricia!) Yearly hopes to get her wedding venue established at last, so she can start earning some money. Jobs on the rainy islands off the coast of Washington State are scarce and don't pay terribly well. But she's scraped up just enough funding to create a professional kitchen in a small house with  gorgeous surroundings, and why shouldn't it work out?

Well, one thing making it tough is Tish's role as junior partner (a way of making her caregiving more acceptable) to her aging grandfather Tobias Yearly, an ex-CIA agent determined to turn Tish and himself into official private investigators. Of course at his age, he's not exactly "up" on all the technology that "snoops" now use -- good thing Tish can handle that end. Meanwhile he's prudently made up business cards that should do for both of them: T. Yearly, plus Tish's cell number.

I chuckled my way through the first book in this series, An Unseen Current -- well, to be honest, I chortled and belly-laughed enough to disturb my spouse's TV watching -- and Maines's earlier series, the Carrie Mae espionage adventures, were also side-splitting. So the mild chaos at the opening of AGAINST THE UNDERTOW seemed promising to me: Tish's not-quite-boyfriend (she's officially seeing someone else, but the chemistry can't be mistaken), Sheriff's Deputy Emmett Nash, needs a quick escape and alibi from accusation of murder, and the next thing you know, Tish is quietly letting her grandfather know she's got the deputy tucked into the trunk of their car, as they exit the ferry, the main route to the islands.

Count on quick twists, as Tish's BFF from the mainland arrives in "cute" overalls to help with the rehab, and a mess of messed-up hippies turns threatening (yep, plenty of gasps of amusement in there), while Tish is trying to take crime-solving seriously for the sake of Deputy Nash (and so she can get back to her construction work). She tells her feisty grandpa that she's concerned:

"I feel like we should be further along in solving Tyler's murder. Or have more suspects. Or something."

"It's the suspects that trouble me," said Tobias leaning back. "I'm not saying women can't kill -- they're perfectly capable. I just don't particularly see these ones doing it."

"Well, apparently anyone can be a killer," said Tish. "If Detective Spring is to be believed."

"No, not really," said Tobias. "What he means is that evil people can be perfectly normal. You know why the rate of PTSD went up so much in Vietnam?"

"Clearer reporting, destigmatization, and a better understanding of the problem?"

"Thank you, Miss Social Sciences. No. Well, probably those had an effect. But also, there was better training. They trained soldiers to shoot a human targets, made it more instinctual, got better guns and made it easier for kids to shoot people."

Grandpa Tobias's point is that their suspects so far -- Clover, who's probably insane, and Nora, who stinks as even an ex-spouse to the accused deputy -- don't feel like they're motivated by the usual killing causes: love, money, or rage.

Of course, Tobias has candidates for the killer role, based on his secret files that he's compiled on just about everyone on the islands. But Tish isn't supposed to leak word of those files ... a difficult position to be in, considering other people already suspect they exist.

My money's on the hippies. Take their leader, Mars, for instance, who tells Tish, "Death is just the next stage."

Trust me, Tish can't leave that performance note alone -- she's on it. Rain or shine. No, wait a minute, this is the Pacific Northwest -- rain or more rain, really.

If you're looking for a summer mystery that's likely to get you cheered up, in spite of murder and risk, and will find a way to have the forces of good triumph (or at least get kissed?), pick up AGAINST THE UNDERTOW. Published by one of several businesses that Maines plays with, Blue Zephyr Press, and available at online retailers in softcover or ebook. You don't need to read the books in sequence -- let me know if you find yourself lured to get more Bethany Maines capers.

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here. 

Humor, Paranormal, but Solid Investigation, with Dr. Siri Paiboun in Colin Cotterill's THE RAT CATCHERS' OLYMPICS

A new mystery in the Laotian Dr. Siri Paiboun series from Colin Cotterill (Soho Crime) is always worth celebrating -- and THE RAT CATCHERS' OLYMPICS is worth stopping all work and just plain enjoying the ride.

Actually Dr. Siri, who's been a coroner for his country in the frustrating 1970s, is now retired. But in this 12th in the series, Siri and his wife Daeng figure out how to join their politically connected friend Civilai on an exciting trip to Moscow with the athletes from Laos who are competing in the 1980 Olympics. That's the year that the United States and 64 other countries boycotted the summer games (a protest of Russian's presence in Afghanistan at the time). So Cotterill cleverly sets up the competition as a smaller-than-usual set of games that can let even the poorly trained and mostly unfinanced Lao team still show up well and have a great time.

But before the athletes -- and Siri, Daeng, Civilai, and their friend and nurse Dtui -- have left the ground in their rickety airplane, an unusual change in the passengers takes place, and Civilai realizes there's been a last-minute, unacknowledged substitution among the competing sharpshooters. Soon the friend decides they've witnessed the start of a major crime, to take place in Moscow. The fifth of their usual group, Inspector Phosy, left behind in Laos, tackles the groundwork to figure out what's planned. When Phosy's hoped-for informant is immediately murdered, the team knows they are all in danger. And the planned international crime is deadly serious.

But that's really the only serious part of this delicious and enjoyable romp through Moscow's hospitality in THE RAT CATCHERS' OLYMPICS. From Dr. Siri's own tendency to abruptly vanish into a land of spirits, to his wife's wagging tail (a long story!), to the love affairs of the athletes, and at last to the rat-catching competition impulsively added to the games, this is a page-turner of the best sort: full of characters worth caring about, a plot with just enough twists, and lots of joy. But it's also crammed with investigative efforts and speculation. For example, when the Moscow-placed suspect disappears:

"He might have gone for a jog," said Dtui.

"Or a walk on the roof," said Daeng. "Insomnia."

"Or he might be out casing the scene of the shooting," said Siri.

"Or actually committing the crime," said Civilai, still feeling guilty for his failure.

The four were seated in the B block cafeteria with stodgy Soviet breakfasts in front of them. Two tables away sat the shooting team with Sompoo in the middle telling jokes.

"This really is a fine time for an assassination, you have to admit," said Siri. "The local TV stations have nothing but Olympic news and smiling citizen interviews. I can't even imagine a murder report finding its way into the newspapers for the next three weeks."

Whether you're fitting in a bit more summer reading, or adding to your admirable shelf of Soho Crime international mysteries, THE RAT CATCHERS' OLYMPICS will reward your purchase. Might as well get one for a friend, too ... I'm already listing the people in my life who deserve this sweet reward.

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Crooning into Crime, THE SINGER FROM MEMPHIS, Gary Corby

I get a kick out of Australian author Gary Corby's wicked sense of humor -- but I should admit right away that THE SINGER FROM MEMPHIS is not an Elvis Presley mystery! Opening in ancient Athens like Corby's preceding five Athenian mysteries, it features Nicolaos, the only private investigator in his city-state at the time. And, of course, his highly intelligent and (gulp) philosophical wife Diotima, who's already broadened his views of women, life, and theatre in preceding titles.

This time his boss Pericles (who always has ulterior motives) is sending Nicolaos to Egypt (where there's a very different Memphis) as an undercover spy. Of course Diotima will go along -- more to the point, so will the author-in-research-stage Herodotus, whose mission of fact-finding is the excuse for what Pericles wants accomplished. At stake is the path to the throne for the contenders grappling to rule Egypt. Is Herodotus also a spy? What other Mediterranean political forces are muddying the Nile's waters? Quick as a trireme can sail (what, you don't know about triremes? trust me, you're going to love them), Nicolaos discovers there are at least three armies and spies in play. And at least one of them is determined to make things personal and get rid of Nicolaos along the way. Good thing Diotima's got his back, even in negotiations:

Somehow Herodotus knew that Diotima and I had been to Ionia, a province of Asia Minor ... it seemed odd to me that he knew such a detail.

Herodotus proceeded to ask us questions about Themistocles. We were able to fend off almost every sensitive issue, since we had only met Themistocles at the end of his life.

"How did he die?" Herodotus asked. He held the brush poised over his scroll and looked up at us expectantly.

The answer to that question was a state secret. I turned to Diotima. Diotima turned to me. We had both sworn never to reveal the truth of those terrible days. ...

I said, "He died of an illness. It was natural causes."

The explanation might have held, except that at the very same instant Diotima said, "It was suicide. He drank bull's blood."

Herodotus looked from one to the other of us in surprise. "Surely it must be one or the other."

"It was both," I answered, thinking quickly. "When Themistocles learned he was dying of natural causes, he drank bull's blood to end it all."

"I see," Herodotus said doubtfully. "I didn't realize bull's blood was poisonous."

"Oh, it is," Diotima said with a straight face. "I thought everyone knew that."

"Thank you," Herodotus said. He scribbled notes.

After that we resolved to avoid Herodotus whenever he had his scroll open.

The pen (or ink brush) may be mightier than the sword, but it's a crossbow that Nicolaos will soon fear, along with spears, crocodiles, and more. Among the forces fighting for Egypt's throne are a cabal of Public Service workers determined to protect their cushy jobs and incomes, at least two potential rulers, and the massive power of the Persians and the Spartans.

Sure, I had to have my arm twisted to start reading this series (revealed in an earlier review here), but Gary Corby's dialogue and plot twists are so entertaining that it's easy to put aside skepticism about "history this old" and relax in the grins and laughter that THE SINGER FROM MEMPHIS provides. Capers, politics, good old-fashioned murder and other crimes -- it's all here, like a happy bundle of papyrus fastened with a scarab or two.

Great summer reading, so add it to the stack! And yes, this is another winner from Soho Crime ... gotta love that press for lively international mysteries in all centuries, continents, and flavors.

Mystery in Maine and Chicago, Clever and "Snarky," HUSBANDS AND LAP DOGS BREATHE THEIR LAST, David Steven Rappoport

Philanthropist Cumming Flynn Wanamaker and his husband live in contemporary Chicago, but their network of friends and locales extends to the coast of Maine. That turns out to be very helpful for this amateur sleuth, when he's the guest of a friend at a Chicago meeting of an occult gathering with delicious steampunk accents. When the speaker self-combusts, Cummings quickly receives an urgent requent to discover more of what had been going on under the table (so to speak) in the group, as well as to recover an item of jewelry that the speaker had flourished.

But Cummings has barely begun to investigate the odd couplings within the group when he gets a second request for his amateur sleuthing skills: His only friend in the rural town of Horeb, Maine, the "elderly, upper class New Englander" Ernestine Cutter, needs him at once to investigate a suspicious death in her own circle. In quick succession, Cummings realizes that not only do both deaths connect with authors (including a gay romance author compared with Barbara Cartland for his many works), but they also both relate somehow to William Reich's psychological explorations of "orgone," a sexual force long since ignored. How can the two deaths share so much, at such a distance from each other?

Between artful descriptions of Chicago classic architectures, "snarky" (the author and publisher's term) interactions among several sets of husbands, and explorations of the occult, this romp through motives and means is in turns a bit naughty and very entertaining. The book is David Steven Rappoport's debut, but he's no raw beginner himself -- author of two Off-Broadway plays, holder of a pair of master's degrees (one is in writing), and a full-time consultant for high-dollar nonprofit plans for health care and other missions, he deftly crafts a lively and often humorous tale, with a lively balance of red herrings and a memorable cast of bizarre characters. I liked Cumming in particular for his habit of solving his choice dilemmas with a combination of stopwatch and random selection. But he's also a dogged investigator who won't leave a stone unturned in the hunt to solve his cases.

HUSBANDS AND LAP DOGS BREATHE THEIR LAST is titled from Alexander Pope's poem "The Rape of the Lock." The pace is lively, the twists abundant, and the characters unstoppable (including in their romantic commitments). I considered it a good page-turner, keeping me well engaged and chuckling, in spite of a few leftover-from-revisions errors that the casual publisher, Mainly Murder Press, allowed to slide by. The book came out in e-version first, and today is the paperback release date; I'll be watching for the sequels, which are Dead Words, and Heidi on the Half Shell. 

Gower St Detective Series #3, DEATH DESCENDS ON SATURN VILLA, M.R.C. Kasasian

M.R.C. (Martin) Kasasian's Gower St Detective Series is quirky, often confusing, frequently dark, threaded through with vicious humor -- and irresistible in terms of posing puzzles to solve and placing it all in the most graphic sort of Victorian world.

In short, I like these books. A lot. My only problem has been deciding which friends to share them with. It's entirely possible that anyone I give a Gower St book to will think I am as strange as the characters within. Alas!

And they are fiercely memorable characters. For instance, there's the narrator, a young woman named March Middleton -- except she only narrates part of DEATH DESCENDS ON SATURN VILLA. There's her godfather Sidney Grice, most famous and most unpleasant detective in the mean streets of London. (Not to mention his insistence on disgusting vegetarian meals, his abuse of his untutored maid-of-all-work, and his scorn for March Middleton herself.)

The puzzles set before March and Grice in the previous two books, The Mangle Street Murders and The Curse of the House of Foskett, have dragged March into gutters and gruesome crime scenes. Her assistance to Grice is a painful necessity: Stranded in his home, unable to live separately due to the mores of Victorian London (and lack of funds), she's caught up in his investigations for lack of anything else to do. And even though his lessons to her are mean-spirited and stingy, she's learning how to assess a crime scene.

But as DEATH DESCENDS ON SATURN VILLA opens, March is on her own, unexpectedly, when a summons arrives from a relative she never knew existed. Risky though it is to accept such an invitation, she feels compelled: Perhaps this new "uncle" can shed light on the terrible suspicion she's harboring about her godfather's role in the death of her own mother.

What March can't have expected, though, is that Uncle Tolly's home will exert such odd effects on her that she'll soon be convinced she herself has committed murder. Will Sidney Grice exert himself far enough to solve her case? Or will his evidence condemn her in court?

Even as March struggles to gain Grice's assistance, the pair continue to play out a "who's on first" sort of dialogue with the uneducated, blunt-tongued maid, Molly:

"Dear March," Mr G spoke tenderly, "I think you may be telling the truth that you do not know if you did it -- whatever it may be."

Molly came in and put a tea tray on the table. "Cook said I was very rude to say that about your dress the other day, miss."

"It does not matter," I told her.

"I just wanted to make it clear," she continued. "There wasn't not nothing wrong with the dress. Anybody else might have looked pretty in it."

"Thank you, Molly."

"And -- "

"Get out," her employer commanded, "before Miss Middleton attacks you as she allegedly did the last maid who crossed her path."

"Oh miss." Molly put her hand to her mouth. "I never even knew you had a path. I hope I never allegingly cross it."

As you can see, the further you're drawn into DEATH DESCENDS ON SATURN VILLA, the more you are trapped halfway between Alice in Wonderland, and Douglas Adams's Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, with a dash of Jasper Fforde on the top. Is this your kind of book?

I confess it's mine on alternate Tuesdays and Thursdays, and crazy though the series is, I can't put the books down, once I start them. Kasasian's plot twists are always unexpected and bizarre, although perfectly reasonable in hindsight (considering the characters involved). The pace is brisk, and the frank depiction of the dirt and dismay of Victorian everyday life is oddly endearing. Most of all, March Middleton is someone worth saving, somehow, so her disappearance in the middle of DEATH DESCENDS presses the book into desperate straits.

I know -- you're going to tell me you are NOT one of the people I should give this book to. Wait -- you've read this far? Maybe ... maybe you like this crazy British humor in detective guise, after all? Go ahead -- get a copy and enjoy snickering and snorting.

Yes, you can read this without reading the other two books first. But I think it's a lot more fun for this series to take one after another. Mute the phone, and keep the tea and crumpets (no cold cabbage stews!) coming.

PS - There's no author website at the moment, as far as I can tell, although Pegasus Crime hosts a launching spot for Kasasian. Look for him on social media instead.