On a sultry Los Angeles summer night, cop-turned-lawyer Stone Barrington should have been having the time of his life. The boat was spirited, the ocean calm, the lights of Catalina twinkling in the distance. He had $25,000 in found money and a steamy redhead awaiting him back on shore. Perfect, but for the fact that he was bound hand and foot, his mouth duct-taped shut, and his allergies to L.

A. smog blocking most of his breathing through his nose. Sublime, but for two thugs named Vinnie and Manny, who are currently chaining him to an anchor and manhandling him to the stern. Compliments of Onofrio Ippolito, Manny says maliciously, planting his foot in the small of Stone’s back and kicking him overboard.

The balance of Swimming to Catalina is told in flashback: it seems that Stone’s one-time girlfriend, Arrington, has gotten married to screen idol Vance Calder. (If she had married Stone, she would have been Arrington Barrington, which is too painful to contemplate.) Now Arrington has gone missing, and Vance Calder summons Stone to help find her. Oh, and one more small detail: Arrington is pregnant, perhaps with Stone’s child. Reluctantly Stone leaves his digs in the Big Apple and catches the redeye to the Big Orange. Stone’s inquiries into Arrington’s disappearance do not go unnoticed by the criminal element of Los Angeles. It seems that wherever he goes a silver Lincoln Town Car follows. He changes hotels, changes cars, to no avail. The Town Car is registered to Onofrio Ippolito, a shady investment banker suspected to be linked to organized crime. The plot thickens . . . On the verge of a breakthrough, Stone receives a call from an excited Vance Calder: Arrington has returned, and Stone’s services will no longer be required. (If this sounds a bit fishy to you, imagine how it sounds to Stone.) Stone decides to stay in L.

A. a few more days, albeit incognito, to sniff around and see what he can turn up. Before he’s through a movie studio will be in turmoil, a criminal operation will be revealed, a mystery or two will be solved, and several people will wind up deceased.

In Swimming to Catalina, Stuart Woods has delivered another in a series of well-crafted, tightly plotted novels of suspense.

Bruce Tierney lives in Nashville, Tennessee.

Something nasty in the woodshed Sometimes when I read mysteries by British women writers, which is as often as I can, a phrase from Stella Gibbons’s Cold Comfort Farm comes to mind: the something nasty in the woodshed once seen by Aunt Ada Doom.

An odd connection to make, you may think, considering that Gibbons’s brilliant parody is not a mystery and that a woodshed is not a common element in mysteries. But for me the connection is real and, given the odd workings of my mind and the principle of six degrees of separation, easily made. Usually there is something indefinably nasty lurking in the background of such British mysteries, something shudderingly different from the garden-variety sex, violence, and betrayal of American crime novels. Just as we never quite learn what it was in the woodshed that frightened Aunt Ada Doom, so are we often uncertain of the source of the nastiness in the mysteries. Sometimes even after we’ve read the last page.

So it is in Frances Fyfield’s latest suspense novel, Blind Date. In it, the kernel of the mystery as well as the wellsprings of the nastiness might lie in the sentiment, How do you make people love you? Variations on the enigmatic phrase are planted throughout, either as a thought of one of the characters or as the unseen narrator’s comment.

Caroline Smythe thinks it early in the novel. Caroline is spending, as she has for years, a two-week holiday at the bed-and-breakfast of an old acquaintance, Diana Kennedy. To say that Diana’s family are old friends would be false, as Caroline bitterly knows; what Diana has offered over the years is merely a pretense of friendship, laced with insults and rejection. Caroline has more than a passing interest in love in at least one of its forms. She runs an introduction service, a dating agency. The phrase arises again, twice, when Patsy, one of a quartet of young women friends, signs up with her agency.

Another of the quartet is Elisabeth, Diana’s daughter and a former policewoman who is recovering from severe wounds inflicted by an attacker. The wounds pain her less than the memory of her sister, Emma, slain by an attacker. Even more painful is her belief that she had caught the attacker, but he was freed by a judge who ruled her pursuit entrapment. The man subsequently killed himself, leaving behind the horrifying suspicion that he was not the killer after all. How, Elisabeth wonders, had she made the suspect love her? Even young Matthew, Emma’s son being raised partly by Diana, is affected. Stubbornly independent, reclusive, and besotted with gems as his late jeweler grandfather was, Matthew thinks, You are only as good as the people who love you. . . . How do you make people love you? Perhaps there can be too much of love, if it’s of the wrong kind, such as the smothering love of Caroline for her mama’s-boy son, Michael. He is, to return to that word, a nasty piece of work, just like his mother. He emulated her gleeful messing up of other lives, but he took it to extremes. Patsy is injured by an attacker and yet another of the quartet, Angela, is murdered by one. Are all of the attacks and murders being committed by the same person? Other questions arise, as they often do in mysteries. Did Matthew witness the murder of his mother and the attack on his Aunt Elisabeth? Who is Joe Maxell, besides being an acquaintance of Michael’s, and why is he sharing Elisabeth’s flat in the tower of a London church, a place so eccentric it defied belief? Why do all of these people seem to know each other? If there is any noticeable weakness in the novel, it rises out of that last question. The stew of personalities and murky motivations can be frustrating to deal with. On the other hand, it could be said that muddle is not a flaw but a hallmark of the mystery novel, so many of which have trouble keeping up with the dead bodies and how and why they got that way.

Fyfield’s mystery finally answers most of the questions it raises. It doesn’t open wide the door to the identity of the killer, but we know who’s behind it, and we’ve been led to the doorstep fairly early. The central, repeated question, however, goes unanswered. As to that, Joe and Elisabeth could tell us, you don’t make it happen, it just does.

Roger Miller is a freelance writer. He can be reached at roger_miller@bookpage.com

Kinky Friedman, author, raconteur, country music singer ( They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore ), and private eye is back for his 11th investigative outing in Blast from the Past. In flashback, Kinky explains the series of events that ushered in his gumshoe career, a quirky and convoluted tale involving the usual cast of characters/suspects, as well as fellow country contra Chinga Chavin and Yippie leader Abbie Hoffman, one of the inventors of the sixties. Shortly after having been convicted of complicity in the bombing of a Chicago bank, Abbie Hoffman went underground, where he remained for many years a fugitive from justice, always looking over his shoulder. Some of this time was spent in Kinky Friedman’s apartment or so Kinky tells it. Abbie and Kinky bore more than a passing resemblance to one another, so when someone took a potshot at Kinky, the immediate assumption was that Abbie was the intended target. But, as we all know, in a mystery novel nothing is ever quite that simple (particularly in a Kinky Friedman novel).

There is, of course, a girl. To protect the innocent, Kinky chooses to call her Judy. Judy is the proverbial bird with the broken wing; Kinky harbors no illusions, however, Once the wing heals good and strong, they beat you to death with it. To complicate matters, she may be sleeping with Kinky’s best friend, and she’s convinced she has seen the ghost of her flyer husband, killed in a plane crash in Vietnam.

Perhaps the best part of any Kinky Friedman novel is the barrage of topical one-liners and observations on subjects as varied as love and politics, death and cats. On the hippies and Yippies, The way I saw it, they hadn’t been wildly successful. When you start a revolution and you wind up with Nixon, it’s time to go back to the drawing board. On a little girl he met outside a Jane Street bakery, She had a spectacularly beautiful American face upon the planes of which intelligence and innocence fought a pitched battle that looked like it might last a lifetime. On his work, I felt particularly Christ-like as I cruised down Christopher Street, my cowboy drag drawing more than the usual number of stares from patrons of a leather bar just across the way. Like Jesus, I was without a home, without a wife, without a job. Also like Jesus, I was a skinny Jew who traveled around the countryside irritating people. It was good work if you could get it. Kinky Friedman is in a class by himself, some might say a world by himself, but from his little green trailer in Texas come some of the weirdest, darkest, and funniest mysteries of the decade.

Bruce Tierney lives in Nashville, Tennessee.

Michael Dibdin’s latest Aurelio Zen mystery, A Long Finish (the title refers to the lingering aftertaste of a fine wine), combines an education in wine making and truffle hunting with a witty, wacky, suspenseful plot, a satisfying set of gory murders, and a solution that keeps the reader guessing up to the last paragraph. For those who have not yet met Aurelio Zen, he is an arrogant, bumbling Italian police detective, who, despite his seeming incompetence, manages to solve mysteries that baffle lesser minds. His subordinates view him with awe. As the story opens, Aldo Vincenzo, one of the greatest vintners in Italy’s piedmont country, has been brutally killed. His son is being held for the murder. A wine connoisseur, collector, and world-famous film and opera director (and friend of police higher-ups), summons Zen. Now he’s dead and his son is in prison, all on the eve of what promises to be one of the great vintages of the century! he says. I want Manlio Vincenzo [the son] released from prison in time to make the wine this year. He tells Zen, Unless we act now, the grapes will either be sold off to some competitor or crudely vinified into a parody of what a Vincenzo wine could and should be. Zen is given a choice. Either get Manlio released from prison, or plan on becoming part of an elite corps of police officers who are being sent to Sicily to wipe out the mob. This, Aurelio Zen does not want, and we are launched into an absorbing (and funny) tale. Dibdin brings the Italian piedmont setting to life: russet and golden foliage sprouting from ancient stumps ; vines heavy with fat blood-red grapes ; the vast, cold damp cellar, its vaulted roof encrusted with a white mesh of saltpetre. He also brings its characters to life, describing three aging partisans, as interchangeable as pieces on a board in their dark, durable patched clothes, each garment a manuscript in palimpsest of tales that would never be told. A Long Finish is Michael Dibdin’s 12th book, and after reading this skillful writer’s latest tale, you’re sure to want to read the entire series.

Cynthia Riggs is a freelance writer on Martha’s Vineyard where she runs a B&andB for poets and writers.

Who knows how it happens. One day you pick up the 13th book in a mystery series, and the magic just isn’t there any more. The characters don’t appear as fresh or as interesting as they once did, and the plot leaves you wishing you’d opted for a racy romance novel. It’s difficult writing mysteries in series. Characters are expected to evolve and meet unique challenges in each new book, but sooner or later, some appear only as mere shadows of themselves. There is, however, an exception. The characters that spring from the fertile mind of Elizabeth Peters have never grown stale. The Ape Who Guards the Balance is the latest in the series and the 10th installment in the unusual life of Victorian Egyptologist Amelia Peabody Emerson. Together with her sexy, irascible husband, Radcliffe; handsome son, Ramses; his loyal friend David; and her lovely, trouble-seeking ward, Nefret, Amelia is once again up to her exquisite neck in crafty criminals and Egyptian tombs. The year is 1907, and as another archaeological season begins in Egypt even Professor Radcliffe Emerson’s brilliant reputation is of little use in securing a choice excavation site. His less than diplomatic nature has landed the family another boring concession digging in the Valley of the Kings. Just as Amelia decides that there’s nothing she can do but keep a stiff upper lip, Nefret, now a young heiress, purchases a mint-condition papyrus of the famed Book of the Dead. This ancient collection of magical spells and prayers designed to ward off the perils of the underworld soon proves to be the key to the mystery that plunges Amelia into renewed dangers with old enemies.

In addition to grave robbers and bold villains, this adventure also provides another encounter with Sethos, the elusive Master Criminal who made his first appearance in The Mummy Case. As expected, Sethos’s flagrant attempts to impress his beloved Amelia still outrage Radcliffe, but one begins, perhaps unwisely, to soften to his charm. In The Ape Who Guards the Balance, readers will see yet another facet of Sethos’s enigmatic and captivating personality.

Devotees who have followed Amelia Peabody since her first encounter with Radcliffe Emerson in Crocodile on the Sandbank should be prepared to see Ramses now grown to manhood and every bit as brilliant and appealing as his father. The Emerson’s ward, the beautiful Nefret, who Amelia rescued from an isolated and forgotten desert oasis in The Last Camel Died at Noon, has been transformed from a 13-year-old Priestess of Isis into a tantalizing young woman quite unaware of Ramses’s growing fascination with her. Unfortunately, some characters in any mystery series must, sooner or later, be phased out. One might remember, with sorrow, the passing of the cat Bastet. In this newest addition to the series, readers should be prepared one of the oldest and best loved characters meets a noble end.

In Elizabeth Peters’s delightful Amelia Peabody series, the magic is still there, and the characters and plots just keep getting better.

Robert B. Parker has been writing Spenser novels for a quarter century now, and, let’s face it, his wise-cracking, hard-hitting, classics-spouting hero is getting a little long in the tooth. It seems only natural that Parker would want to introduce a new hero to his readers, even as he continues Spenser’s adventures. That the hero is part of the Spenser milieu makes it easier to get to know him, and considering the character’s character, that’s probably a good thing.

Jesse Stone is a man with a past; he’s an ex-Los Angeles police officer, divorced, and an alcoholic in the making. For a young man, he’s carrying a lot of baggage when he becomes the police chief of the little town of Paradise, Massachusetts (which is where we met him in Night Passage, Parker’s first novel in this new series).

In Parker’s new novel, Trouble in Paradise, we pick up where we left off at the end of Night Passage. Jesse’s actress ex-wife is living in Boston now, working as a weather girl. Also in for a change of scenery is Jimmy Macklin, who’s just out of prison and looking for a big score; he thinks he’s found it in Paradise, specifically Stiles Island, a gated community for the very rich. Together with Faye, his girlfriend, and a hand-picked crew of criminals, he plans to cut Stiles Island off from Paradise, rob the entire island, then make his getaway by sea. What he doesn’t count on is Jesse Stone if Jesse can find the time to stop him. His plate is pretty full as it is, with a hate-crime to investigate, a wealthy family meddling in his investigation, and three (!) women after him. Thwarting a band of expert, bloodthirsty criminals might be the easiest thing he’ll do all day.

Trouble in Paradise is full of Robert B. Parker’s trademark snappy repartee, straight-arrow justice, and characters you care about. Jesse Stone is not as endearing a character as Spenser, but like Spenser, like reality, he shows a capacity for change. I’ve got a feeling he’ll grow on you.

Cat on the Scent, the seventh mystery co-written by Rita Mae Brown and her feline collaborator Sneaky Pie, features all the traits of purebred fun.

Recently Disney telecast a version of these mysteries, called Murder She Meowed. It was wonderful to hear the voices of Mrs. Murphy and Tucker, the cat and corgi sleuths who bring clues like gifts to their house-sharer, Mary Harry Harristeen. She’s the postmistress of Crozet, Virginia, and thus privy to the town’s news and gossip (and clues!) when residents pick up their mail. Crozet is shocked when a wealthy resident is shot during a Civil War battle reenactment. Of course Harry and her pets which now include another cat, Pewter get involved in solving the shooting, the first of several to rock the close community.

The sheriff considers the amateur detective a busybody, but concedes a fair amount of past success, little appreciating that her furry friends really deserved the credit. Lassie-like, they uncover and deliver clues, or coax humans to the evidence. Brown gives such intelligence to her animal characters that soon the reader begins looking more to the four-legged for insights into human behavior. The hilarious highlight of the book is a scene straight out of Disney the three animals collaborating to drive a car containing a shooting victim.

The antics of the animals, Brown’s witty observations, the history-revering Virginians, and the Blue Ridge setting make this a pleasurable read for lovers of this popular genre. Enjoying it with two dozing cats on your lap, as I did, made it all the more perfect.

George Bauman is the co-owner of Acorn Bookshop in Columbus, Ohio.

Liberty Falling, the latest installment in Nevada Barr’s Anna Pigeon series, finds the park ranger/sleuth in the Big Apple. Not a lot of call for a park ranger in New York City, one might think, but in fact one of the most popular tourist parks in the country can be found within the city limits: Ellis and Liberty Islands, home of the Statue of Liberty.

Anna has rather more personal reasons for being in New York City: Her sister Molly is in the ICU of Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital, and Anna must face the prospect of her sister’s possible death. Because she can’t bear to stay at her sister’s apartment, Anna bunks with an old ranger buddy out on Liberty Island.

From the outset, her stay is punctuated by bizarre and deadly events: a young girl apparently dives to her death from the observation platform in the crown of the statue; someone in the onlooking crowd claims that the girl had some help from an aggressive park ranger; within days, said ranger is found dead; Anna is pushed in front of an oncoming subway, only to be saved at the last moment by a casual passerby. Given to paranoia at the best of times, Anna tries to dismiss the events as coincidence, but as the week wears on it becomes more and more difficult.

Liberty Falling is something of a departure for Nevada Barr. In several of Anna’s earlier adventures, the crimes centered around time-honored themes of jealousy or greed. The bad guys (and/or girls) in Liberty Falling are not so simply motivated; conspiracy piles upon conspiracy until Anna is literally awash in a sea of red herring (and worse, considering that it’s New York Harbor after all). The fate of the premiere symbol of freedom hangs in the balance.

One cannot help but agree with beleaguered Anna as she quips: All the world’s a plot, and all the men and women in it merely suspects. Bruce Tierney lives in Nashville, Tennessee.

Le Carre begins with a bang: This gun is not a gun.

Or such was Mr. Winser’s determined conviction when the youthful Alix Hoban, European managing director and chief executive of Trans-Finanz Vienna, Petersburg, and Istanbul, introduced a pallid hand into the breast of his Italian blazer and extracted neither a platinum cigarette case nor an engraved business card, but a slim blue-black automatic pistol in mint condition, and pointed it from a distance of six inches at the bridge of Mr. Winser’s beakish but strictly nonviolent nose. This gun does not exist. Le Carre takes us inside Winser’s head while the pistol is held in his face, backward through his life, his sex life, his business life, building empathy with Winser. Horrified, we see the gangsters with Hoban produce a video camera, all for the point of filming Winser’s execution. The gun is, indeed, a gun. But first-rate espionage writing has to be more than bang-bang, shoot-em-up. And there is not much doubt about Le Carre being first-rate. From being smacked in the face with this beginning dramatic flourish, we are then led through the diminuendo of explication, the weaving of the tapestry of this particular world where the hoods make international cell phone calls and film their executions. It is in some senses a new world for Le Carre readers the Georgia mafia meets Tony London merchant banking. But in many ways, it is the world this masterful storyteller has given us for years.

We have a hero: flawed, scarred by life, unlucky in love, and above all, deeply ambivalent about his professional mission. The people he loves often end up dead. And the threat to them drives the hero to shed his ambiguities and step up to the challenge, pistol in hand.

This time our man is Oliver Single, an awkward, overlarge magician, an entertainer of children. He is living the quiet life. Occasionally he drinks to the point of oblivion. He has the air of having been deeply wounded. But there is more to Oliver than the magician lodger. He is really the son of Tiger Single, the tiny, fastidious mogul who heads the House of Single, a merchant banking firm. To the world, Tiger has made his considerable pile by being the bold venture capitalist who knows the ropes in the former Soviet empire. We learn, however, that the secret of Single’s success is better described as laundering and lubricating the flow of funds for the Orlov gang, as colorful a pack of villains as Le Carre ever created.

Young Oliver joins the firm, falls in love, and becomes a traitor to his father’s cause. That much you learn in the first few pages. For the rest of this intriguing, brilliantly plotted story one of Le Carre’s best you have the pleasure of settling down with a couple of Singles.

J.

W. Foster is an attorney in Columbia, South Carolina.

Le who? John Le Carre was born in England in 1931. After attending the universities of Berne and Oxford, he spent five years in the British Foreign Service. He is the author of 17 novels, including Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy: A Perfect Spy, The Little Drummer Girl, The Russia House, and The Tailor of Panama. His books have been translated into 25 languages. He lives in England.