Dead Man’s Mistress by David Housewright

August 3, 2019 at 2:38 pm (Book review, books, Mystery fiction)

  This is a nifty little caper novel in which an unlicensed private eye goes in search of three valuable paintings. The art works were boosted from the home of one Louise Wykoff, usually referred to as “that Wykoff Woman.” Now Louise was a sometime model and sometime lover of the artist, Randolph McInnis. Also in the picture is Mary Ann McInnis, widow of Randolph and enthusiastic hater of Louise.

Louise however, had no documentation as to their provenance of the paintings; and nor were they insured. Add to that, Louise, a painter herself, is a dab hand at mimicking Randolph’s style. So: who actually made this art? And to whom does it belong, stolen or not?

Enter the rather uniquely named Rushmore McKenzie, described in the jacket copy as “an occasional unlicensed private investigator.” Called simply McKenzie by just about everyone, he’s been asked to look into  the theft.  Soon he finds himself looking into a murder as well, one in which he himself is initially implicated.

Anyway, the cast of characters keeps getting larger, thus providing both McKenzie and the local police with plenty of suspects. Although cleared of involvement in the homicide, McKenzie is not necessarily cleared of suspicion. Why, you might ask, is McKenzie not licensed? The reason is that he’s been made independently wealthy by a generous legal settlement. He detects out of a genuine desire to help people and also for the sheer pleasure of it, not for the money. (This reminded me of Andy Carpenter the lawyer in the David Rosenfelt series, although in Andy’s case, his comfortable situation has been facilitated by a hefty inheritance.)

Dead Man’s Mistress has lots of snappy dialog in the tried and true gumshoe tradition. (I invariably come back to the classic line, spoken by Sam Spade, from The Maltese Falcon: “The cheaper  the crook, the gaudier the patter.”) The novel is lightweight and breezy and zips right along. And unexpectedly, it has a nicely realized sense of place. Most of the action takes place in and around Grand Marais, Minnesota. This is a recreational area that caters primarily to tourists. (That’s during the summer, of course – we are, after all, speaking of Minnesota.) I even learned of an actual yearly event that sounds rather wonderful:

Every August, reenactors from across the country dress in period attire and gather at the post for what is called the Grand Rendezvouz and pretend for three days to be living in the late eighteenth century.

This is just the kind of thing I love.

I liked McKenzie,  and as I was reading, I kept trying to recall who he reminded me of. Then I remembered: Robert B. Parker’s Spenser, of blessed memory.