Review: "BAE-I" and "Room E-36" by Douglas Corleone

 

Ghost Signal: Dark Frequencies BAE-I and Room E-36 by Douglas Corleone Ghost Signal Press, 2025     One of my recent reading discoveries and new favorites, Douglas Corleone, has written a pair of novelettes—BAE-I and Room E-36—in a new series of dark technology sci-fi tales that read like a television anthology series. Both are standalone stories, but they are thematically linked and have disturbingly believable near-future settings. Their shared theme: artificial intelligence is coming for us. The first, BAE-I, which was released in May, is about a concerned mother, LynAnn Duft, and her adult son, Howie. The place: LynAnn’s home in “a small Missouri town forgotten by time.” Howie resides in the basement with his computer, no friends, and no hope of ever meeting that right girl. But everything changes when LynAnn responds to a television ad for a company called Bae-i. A company that will— I’ll let you discover exactly what Bae-i does because it’ll be more fun that way. The other, Room E-36, which was released in June, finds Jack Alden, a travel writer carrying a lifetime of disappointment and demons, wrapping up an assignment in Waikiki. His article is due in two days and Jack knows the best place to write it is on-island. So when an invitation for a free room at a new resort called Echo at Ko Olina—on Oahu’s leeward side—reaches Jack, he grabs it. The hotel is unique because it is fully autonomous; which means it is operated by artificial intelligence without the aid of human employees. A set-up that makes Jack cringe, but… he goes anyway. Because what could possibly go wrong?

These novelettes are scary, thought-provoking, and entertaining as hell. A trifecta of sorts for any reader with a hankering for a good and satisfying tale. Their lengths—somewhere between 10,000 and 12,000 words—along with Corleone’s cinematic prose, make them as much fun to read as a television series like The Twilight Zone or Black Mirror are to watch. As usual for Corleone, the settings are vivid and compelling; adding both atmosphere and tension to the narrative. Howie’s basement lair is confining and dark, while the Echo at Ko Olina is obscenely antiseptic. But the real punch is the almost noir-like downfall of the primary characters as they make one bad decision after another. Do yourself a favor and read BAE-I and Room E-36 because we all need a good reality-based scare from time to time.

You can read BAE-I and Room E-36 on Kindle—each is a mere 99-cents or included with you Kindle Unlimited subscription. Click here to go to the Ghost Signal: Dark Frequencies page at Amazon.

Review: "The Wolf in the Clouds" by Ron Faust

 

The Wolf in the Clouds by Ron Faust Popular Library, 1978   The Wolf in the Clouds is Ron Faust’s second novel. Originally published in 1977 as a hardcover by Bobbs-Merrill’s Black Bat Mystery imprint, it has been reprinted by Popular Library (1978)—which is the edition I read—and more recently as a trade paperback and ebook by Turner Publishing. Like much of Faust’s early work, The Wolf in the Clouds is a relatively simple adventure yarn with a poetic lilt that makes it a little more.    A small town in rural Colorado is under siege by a slow-moving blizzard and a rampage killer. A killer who shot several people at a nearby ski resort and is now hiding in the rugged Wolf Mountain Wilderness Area. The storm trapped three college students skiing in the shadow of the Wolf—a high, unforgiving mountain peak—and two forest rangers brave the freezing temperatures to mount a rescue. The rangers, Jack and Frank, find the skiers safely holed up in a small cabin, but they also find the killer; a man named Ralph Brace whom Jack once considered a friend, but quickly realizes he never knew Ralph at all. The Wolf in the Clouds is an entertaining and smoothly written adventure novel. It is written in first person from Jack’s perspective and the narrative includes ideas larger than the story. The complexity of public land use is only one and it is as relevant today, perhaps even more so, than it was fifty years ago. The prose is both complex and simple; easy to read, but with a texture of beauty about it: “Roof timbers creaked, the last light faded from the windows, the stone walls exhaled a new, acid cold. The long winter night was here; we had fourteen or fifteen hours until dawn.” The story lacks the complexity of Faust’s later novels and the protagonist, Jack, is shaded by a cold veneer. He is aloof, even in an early scene with his wife, and something of an outsider with both the Forest Service and the townsfolk, which is forgivable since everything works so well—setting, plotting, character. The Wolf in the Clouds isn’t in the top-tier of Ron Faust’s body of work, which is reserved for his final six or seven novels, but it is still damn good. *                 *                 * This is a slightly updated version of a review published on May 19, 2016.

Check out The Wolf in the Clouds on Amazon—click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback.

EQMM Cover Art: Nov. 1954, Frederic Kirberger

The marvelous cover illustration for the November 1954 issue of the digest, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine [Vol. 24, No. 5], was created by Frederic H. Kirberger. And wow do I like its stark realism.    The issue is packed with big names and good stories, too, including: “How Does Your Garden Grow?” by Agatha Christie “The Candy Kid,” by Erle Stanley Gardner “I Always Get the Cuties,” by John D. MacDonald “The Suicide of Kiaros,” by L. Frank Baum “Taste,” by Roald Dahl “Only in Chinago,” by Jack London And the first published story, “Whistle While You Work,” by the guys that created the television series, Columbo, William Link & Richard Levinson. Link & Levinson were 20-year-old students of University of Pennsylvania at the time. The back cover—below right—is from EQMM’s longtime advertiser, the now-defunct The Detective Book Club. A club that printed three books in one and spared no expense for its cover design. But I have to admit I have a few in my personal stacks.

 

Booked (and Printed): July 2025

 

Booked (and Printed) July 2025     July is fireworks, apple pie, heat, humidity, fireflies, swimming, long but shortening days, and quite honestly both the best and worst of summer. The worst (of course) is the heat and humidity. The best is…well, for me, the swimming. I won’t bore you with the heat since I’m sure you have your own awful version, but the best of our summer? I’ll share some of that. We’ve been swimming in the lakes around our home: Lake Bomoseen, Lake St. Catherine, and Emerald Lake. We saw snapping turtles in Bomoseen, sat in a frigid spring at St. Catherine (every time we go), and got caught in an epic rainstorm at Emerald. A rainstorm that almost drowned us; or at least made us really, really wet. As for reading? July’s numbers were better than the prior month’s but it was far from my best with five novels and two short stories. The lackluster numbers are due to my aching eyes, but I kept the course, followed my doctor’s advice and pushed forward anyway. So—with that, I’ll stop complaining. Of the five novels I completed, three were released in 2025: DEATH OF AN EX, by Delia Pitts, LENGTH OF DAYS, by Lynn Kostoff, and Falls to Pieces, by Douglas Corleone. All three were enjoyable and I wrote detailed reviews of the first two here and here. Okay, so my review of Length of Days hasn’t hit yet. But it will soon. As for FALLS TO PIECES—it is something different from the talented and reliable Corleone’s usual fare since it fits nicely into the psychological thriller category. His other work tends toward straight thrillers, crime, and mystery. Kati Dawes and her seventeen-year-old daughter, Zoe, are hiding from Kati’s estranged husband, Jeremy, in the tropical paradise of Maui. Their protected world is shattered when Kati’s fiancé, Eddie, disappears while the couple are hiking. Kati tells law enforcement she last saw Eddie talking on his cell phone, waving for her to go on ahead of him. Of course, Kati is the prime suspect in Eddie’s disappearance and she doesn’t do much to help her cause. Her story is scattered and inconsistent and it doesn’t always line up with the evidence at the scene. And this inconsistency spreads to the reader since Kati is the primary narrator and she is oh so wonderfully unreliable. Things get worse when Eddie’s disappearance hits the national news—and images of Kati are broadcast that bring her ex, Jeremy, scrambling to the island. Falls to Pieces is good fun. The Maui setting is marvelous enough that one can almost smell the trees and earth, and taste the ocean air. The action is swift as it moves around Maui with an almost breathless fervor. The final twist is surprising, as are those preceding it, but I found myself wishing there had been a few more clues to prepare me for that last reveal. With that said, I liked Falls to Pieces and hope to see more fiction like this from Douglas Corleone.

The two “vintage” books I read in July are: What the Dead Leave Behind, by David Housewright (2017), and FRONT SIGHT, by Stephen Hunter (2024). Front Sight is a collection of three Swagger novellas—one each starring Bob Lee, Earl, and Charles (Bob Lee’s grandad). A collection I liked, and one I reviewed here. WHAT THE DEAD LEAVE BEHIND is David Housewright’s fourteenth Rushmore McKenzie and I really dug it. McKenzie is a former St. Paul, Minnesota cop, turned millionaire that does “favors” for friends. Erica, the daughter of McKenzie’s longtime girlfriend Nina Truhler, asks McKenzie to help her college friend, Malcolm Harris, find out who murdered his father, Frank Harris, a year earlier. The police case has gone cold and it seems no one, even Malcolm’s mother and Frank’s widow, cares if the crime is ever solved. McKenzie is hesitant to get involved, but he can’t say no to Erica, and what he finds are another murder that seems to be connected to Frank’s and an array of suspects and motives. What the Dead Leave Behind is a solid mystery—the plotting is tight, the clues are rampant, and the suspense builds with every page. There is Housewright’s usual brilliant Twin Cities (and beyond) setting, too. But it is McKenzie’s witty tongue and his tough guy style that give What the Dead Leave Behind that all too rare shimmer. As for my paltry list of short stories: Both came from the October 1983 issue of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. I won’t say anything about the first, “HOW’S YOUR MOTHER?,” by the always reliable Simon Brett, since you can read my full review here. The other, “LOCKED DOORS,” by Lilly Carlson, appeared in EQMM’s Department of “First Stories.” I had never read anything by its author and my internet searches failed to uncover anything else by (or about) her—do any of you know anything about Ms. Carlson?—but I liked “Locked Doors” a bunch. A psychological thriller with an unreliable narrator, a writer of course, with a couple kids, a dog, and what may or may not be an overactive imagination. This one is worth looking up if you’re of a mind. The only book I started and failed to finish was Elise Hart Kipness’s latest release, CLOSE CALL (2025)—which is slated for release on August 19. This third in the Kate Green mystery series is set at the U.S. Open tennis grand slam championship tournament in Flushing Meadows, New York. But it could have been set anywhere since little of the tournament filters into the story until late in the day. At its center, a world class and mostly despised female tennis champion is kidnapped, and Kate (a television sports newscaster) and her father, an NYPD detective, are the only hope of getting her back alive. I made it more than 70-percent of the way through but it failed to pique my interest from the first sentence to the last one I read. There is repetition, not much character development, and the U.S. Open setting could have been so much better. But that’s just me… Okay, as my mom always taught me, exit on something positive. My favorite book of the month? What the Dead Leave Behind. Just thinking about it makes me want to dip into  McKenzie’s next adventure, which if memory serves is Like to Die (2018). Fin— Now on to next month…

Review: "Chain of Evidence" by Garry Disher

 

Chain of Evidence by Garry Disher Soho Crime, 2007   Chain of Evidence is Australian crime writer Garry Disher’s fourth novel to feature Inspector Hal Challis and Sergeant Ellen Destry. A police procedural set in the rural, but booming Mornington Peninsula area south of Melbourne in Victoria, Australia. A place where poverty and wealth live side-by-side and crime is as deadly and ugly as it is in any large city. While visiting his dying father in his childhood home in the dusty, hardscrabble South Australia town of Mawson’s Bluff, Challis unofficially investigates the mysterious disappearance of his sister’s husband, Gavin Hurst, from eight years earlier. Hurst is a man not readily missed by many of Mawson’s Bluff’s residents and his disappearance is truly a mystery. His truck was abandoned at the desert’s edge and his body was never found. Back home at the Waterloo Station, Ellen Destry is filling in for Challis during his absence when a girl is kidnapped on her way home from school. She is found imprisoned in an uninhabited house. Abused by what Destry believes is a pedophile ring operating in the Peninsula. Her investigation hits roadblocks from within the police service and the only person she can trust is Hal Challis, more than 1,000 kilometers away. Chain of Evidence is a powerful and disturbing procedural. The two major mysteries are intriguing and executed with the sure hand of an absolute professional. It is Ellen Destry’s coming out as an equal partner with Challis. The setting, both the Peninsula and Mawson’s Bluff, is rendered with a muted artistry and adds immeasurably to the novel’s power. There is nothing gory or exploitative about either storyline and Disher has a way of mixing character stereotypes to develop tension between the characters, the plot, and the reader. It may be the best book in the series. If you are new to Garry Disher, Chain of Evidence is a very good place to get acquainted. *                        *                        * This is a slightly updated version of a review published on August 12, 2017.

Check out Chain of Evidence on Amazon—click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback.

Review: "Branded" by Ed Gorman

Branded by Ed Gorman Berkley, 2004   “He wanted to build himself a cigarette, but his hands were covered with the woman’s blood. There was something vile about cigarette paper soaked with blood.”   Branded—which is currently available as an ebook from Speaking Volumes—was originally published as a paperback original in 2004 by Berkley and (needless to say) it didn’t get the play it deserved. Andy Malloy is nineteen and preoccupied by the daydreams of youth. Andy, Sir Andrew as he is known in the realm, imagines himself a knight of King Arthur’s Court where he is brave, just, and admired. But his reality is much different. He works as a store clerk, his father is a drunk, and his stepmother, Eileen, is petty and unfaithful. Arriving home from work Andy discovers Eileen lying dead on the couch, a gunshot wound to her forehead. His father, Tom, is the obvious suspect and Andy hides the body until Tom convinces Andy he isn’t the killer. The only problem is the Sheriff, a hard man with a reputation for beating and killing suspects, doesn’t believe any of it. Branded is a superior western novel. It is a heady mixture of character, plot, and action. Populated by real people who act and behave, at different times, both rationally and irrationally. A town gossip whose only joy is causing trouble, a violent lawman with a suspicious background, a town drunk whose personal frailty and desire for respect is painful, an isolated woman with a burned face. And townspeople who do their best to ignore it. The plot is closer to crime, shadows of serial killings no less, than a traditional western and there is a satisfying, and surprising climactic twist. But it is also appealing as a traditional western and readers of both genres will find much to like here. *                      *                      * This is a slightly revised version of a review published on June 8, 2016.

Check out Branded on Amazon—click here for the Kindle edition.

 

Review: "Front Sight: Three Swagger Novellas" by Stephen Hunter

 

Front Sight Three Swagger Novellas by Stephen Hunter Atria Books, 2024     I read Stephen Hunter’s first Bob Lee Swagger thriller, Point of Impact (1993), sometime during the Spring of 1994. And holy wow, it knocked me off my feet with its disturbingly realistic violence—the realism due as much to the emotional impact on the characters as the action itself—and the dizzying large screen conspiracy plot with a former Vietnam sniper, turned Arkansas drunk, nicknamed Bob the Nailer, at its core. I read the next two—Black Light (1996) and Time to Hunt (1998)—as they were released with the same satisfying awe as I’d had while reading the first. Frankly, all three are among the best thrillers published in the 1990s. After that, Hunter switched to telling the story of Bob Lee’s father, Earl. A rugged former Marine and legendary Arkansas lawman gunned down in 1954 by the nasty Lamar Pye—you should read the fantastic Dirty White Boys (1994) for Lamar’s tale. Hot Springs, which was the first of three books featuring Earl—the other two are Pale Horse Coming (2001) and Havana (2003)—hit bookstores in 2000. And then in 2007 Hunter returned to Bob Lee with the disappointing The 47th Samurai and again in 2008 with the so-so Night of Thunder. Which is when I lost interest in Hunter’s new releases and the Swaggers both. I mention all this because I recently read Hunter’s Front Sight (2024), a collection of three Swagger novellas—one each for Earl and Bob Lee, and another featuring Bob Lee’s grandad, Charles Swagger—and found myself wondering if I’d been too hasty in writing-off Hunter and the Swaggers. The first, “City of Meat,” featuring Charles Swagger, is a hard-as-nails story about an elusive drug syndicate working Chicago’s predominately Black 7th District in 1934. Charles is a former Arkansas sheriff and renowned gunfighter turned G-Man on an FBI team looking for the notorious bank robber, Baby Face Nelson. While investigating a possible sighting of Nelson at the Chicago Stockyards, Charles is confronted by a knife-wielding man soaring high on an unknown narcotic. Charles teams-up with the real-life depression-era Black lawman, Slyvester Washington, nicknamed Two-Gun Pete—rumored to be the source material for “Dirty Harry” Callahan in the Dirty Harry movies—and follows the trail of the narcotics gang into unexpected places. “City of Meat” is action-packed and violent, but its real-world setting, the plight of Blacks on Chicago’s Southside—nobody really cared what happened there so long as it stayed there—give it a panache and a depth unusual for anything published in the thriller category. As Hunter says in his intro, “City of Meat” is his attempt at writing the equivalent of “the message picture,” where the story is accompanied by a portrayal of a societal ill. And it worked well. “Johnny Tuesday,” which began life as an unproduced screenplay, is a hardboiled film noir in novella format. It is hardboiled in a Carroll John Daly way: fast-paced but at times frustratingly indecipherable with a black and white morality and, especially in the case of Earl, cartoonish characters. It’s 1945 and Earl Swagger is fresh from the South Pacific and now fighting a personal war in the small fictional city of Chesterfield, Maryland. He hits town using the name Johnny Tuesday to investigate a lethal bank robbery and finds pretty much everyone in town is a scoundrel. The style of this one is cool—it feels like one of those “complete novel” tales published in the pulps of the 1930s. A category I like, but the writing (as good as it is) felt a little too self-aware and the plot a little too busy. And even worse, Earl seemed like an altogether different man than he is in his novels. “Johnny Tuesday” would have worked better if the hero hadn’t been Earl Swagger, or if I hadn’t read any of Hunter’s excellent Earl Swagger novels before reading it. “Five Dolls for the Gut Hook,” which is my favorite of the stories, is a serial killer tale set in Hot Springs, Arkansas. It’s 1979 and Bob Lee is drowning his dark Vietnam memories—“whiskey dreams were the best, and this one was fine”—in his tiny Polk County, Arkansas trailer. But his slow suicide gets shunted aside when his old friend Sam Vincent comes asking for a favor. A killer is targeting young transient women working Hot Springs’ sex trade and the local force is out of ideas of how to catch the monster. They won’t go to the staties or the FBI because it would bring unwanted publicity as Hot Springs is trying to transition from a rough and tumble crime town into a family destination resort. And everyone is sure Bob Lee can bring something new to the investigation since he comes from lawman stock. And, of course, they’re right. In Hunter’s intro to “Five Dolls for the Gut Hook,” he says it is his attempt at writing a “notorious genre of bloody Italian mystery-horror films of the seventies,” called “Giallo.” A film style I’m unfamiliar with, but if any of the films are as good as this tale, I need to make amends and get acquainted with it quick-like. Besides the great title, “Five Dolls of the Gut Hook,” has that grand dusty feeling of the 1970s: pickup trucks, sweat, cowboy shirts, brutality, dark deeds, and corrupt cops all wrapped into a honky-tonk town darkened by its many secrets. And there’s Bob Lee, being Bob Lee, too. This one alone is worth the price of admission.

Check out Front Sight on Amazon—click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback.

Book Ads from The Armchair Detective (Fall 1991)

 

I love book advertising in all its forms—especially the printed variety. The ads below appeared in the Fall 1991 issue of the marvelous Armchair Detective. The Worldwide Books ad was on the inside front cover and the Viking / Dutton appeared on page 413, between an article about Joseph Finder’s first novel, The Moscow Club (1991), and William L. DeAndrea’s column, J’Accuse! I have a not-so-secret admiration for the Worldwide Mystery line—I tend to add them to my shelves when they cross my path—but I admit I haven’t read, nor do I own, any of the three titles advertised here. Although, I particularly like the sound of Paula Gosling’s Backlash (1989). How can you go wrong with an “intellectual cop” carrying a name like Jack Stryker around? As for the ten titles advertised by Viking / Dutton, the only one I’ve read is Gerald Petievich’s Paramour (1991) and wow did I like it; but as I recall I read the Pocket Books mass market reprint.     Click the images for a better view.

Review: "How's Your Mother?" by Simon Brett

 

“How’s Your Mother?” by Simon Brett Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine Oct. 1983   Simon Brett’s, “How’s Your Mother?” is a traditional mystery with a humorous edge and a perfectly surprising twist. Humphrey Partridge and his ailing 86-year-old mother live quiet lives in a charming, if gossipy, English village. Humphrey is a doting son—he prefers the company of his mother over anyone else. But a rumor, started by a busybody at the post office, that Humphrey will inherit a bundle from his mother and that he would emigrate “to Canada if only he hadn’t got the old girl to worry about” raises suspicions about Humphrey when his mother mysteriously disappears. “How’s Your Mother?” is a snappy and funny whodunit—with a marvelously ironic ending—and a dead mother and gossip at its center. Brett adroitly plays with the reader’s expectations to deliver more than one surprise and he does it in his usual light-hearted style. But the real thrill is the smile it will spark on the readers’—at least this reader’s!—face with its perfectly ghoulish final words.

“How’s Your Mother?” was first published in the U.K. in The Mystery Guild Anthology, edited by John Waite (1980).

A Triptych of TV Reviews

A Triptych of TV Reviews     While I talk about television here at the blog every so often, I rarely review television or even talk much about what I’m watching. Which is crazy because I genuinely L-O-V-E television. Especially the dramatic stuff—with an eye towards mystery—and the occasional and often crass and utterly classless sitcom. The so-called reality stuff? Nah. So today I’m throwing something new into the interwebs with a look at three series I’ve watched over the past month. And it’s something I may do more of in the future if you’re receptive to the idea. The first, YOUR FRIENDS & NEIGHBORS (AppleTV+, 2025) is a funny and tart dramedy—what a stupid word that is, yeah?—about hedge fund trader Andrew Cooper (Jon Hamm). Coop, which is what everyone calls him, is at a crossroads. His wife Mel (played by Amanda Peet) cheated on him with one of his besties, his son and daughter hate him, he was fired from his job because his boss wanted his clients—and no one will hire him because he has a lengthy non-compete agreement—and Coop has a huge financial nut to cover every month. So Coop does what any good-natured guy living in Westchester County, New York, would do. He starts stealing from his well-heeled neighbors. What Your Friends & Neighbors lacks in originality it makes up for with zest and Jon Hamm’s simple watchability. Coop’s good nature is never overwhelmed by his quiet despair and the story is built with humor. A $30,000 toilet makes an appearance and the trunk of Coop’s Maserati won’t stay shut. Coop is something of a mash-up of Jay Gatsby and Fletch; a combination I liked. As one would expect from a show like this, the actors are all beautiful and there is a bunch of sex. I mean, too much sex for my easily embarrassed self. But boy did I have fun watching this one, even the sex!

LOUDERMILK (Netflix, 2017 – 2020), is a sitcom my wife and I originally watched during that first awful year of Covid. Much of what I watched in 2020 leaves me with a bad taste because it reminds me of how crummy life was and how helpless I felt watching civilization torch itself. And the pandemic was the least of the trouble. We took the risk of watching Loudermilk again and it was just as funny this time as it had been the first. It is centered on the cynical misanthrope and recovering alcoholic Sam Loudermilk, played perfectly by Ron Livingston, as he adjusts to his new post-drinking and -drugging normal. Loudermilk had been a high-flying music critic for Rolling Stone before a drunken automobile accident that nearly killed his then-wife scared him straight. Now Loudermilk makes his living shining a bank’s floors while spending most of his personal time leading an AA-type group in the basement of a local church. Every episode is centered around Loudermilk—he is a glowering and acid-tongued straight man to a litany of wacky side players from his roommates, who are both recovering addicts, to the almost men-only members of his recovery group, to whoever is driving him ape— in any given episode. There are hipster neighbors, Loudermilk’s deadbeat but likable dad, a possible love interest that Loudermilk can never get right, and a posse of ridiculous and hilarious situations always made more uncomfortable by Loudermilk’s acidity. The series builds on itself over time—there are jokes that pay off in later episodes and the characters, especially the addiction support group members, are fleshed-out over time. But if you like a semi-raunchy Gen-X comedy with good acting and better writing, you won’t have any trouble dipping your toes anywhere in Loudermilk’s too short three season run of 30 episodes.

PARANOID (Netflix, 2016) is a single season British mystery series with a wobbly structure and more than a few unintentional funny moments. Paranoid is a hot mess—but a hot mess I enjoyed watching. When a GP is murdered at a playground in rural Cheshire County—southeast of Liverpool—the evidence and witnesses point to a schizophrenic man that wanders the neighborhood. The local authorities want the case closed quickly and the police are comfortable with their suspect. At least, until they notice someone claiming to be a detective questioning their witnesses and they, the actual detectives tasked with the investigation, receive an envelope from the masked man filled with evidence contradicting their theory of the crime. They give this unknown detective the silly moniker of “ghost detective” and follow the trail from Cheshire to Dusseldorf, Germany, where a pair of German detectives join the chase. The plot is a clunky conspiracy thriller with familial intrusions—one detective’s mother is associated with a rather nasty psychiatrist that seems to be everywhere in the investigation and another gets into a relationship with a wacky witness—an emotionally destructing detective (played by Robert Glenister with a bunch of twitching and without any subtlety), a wildly happy German detective (played charmingly by Christiane Paul), a giant plastic Jesus filled with colorful pharmaceutical pills, a Quaker, and… It just goes on and on. But for all that—maybe because of all that—I don’t regret a single minute spent watching the eight episodes of Paranoid. But your mileage may vary on this one.