Passages: David Housewright's "What the Dead Leave Behind"

 

This tough guy line from David Housewright’s What the Dead Leave Behind (2017), the 14th book in the McKenzie series, caught my eye because of its simple truth. Of course, being a hardboiled mystery that truth is cached in bravado and a promise of violence. But still, it is a truth—bullies break the rules while expecting and using the rules to shackle their victims. A tactic we’ve seen almost daily over the past decade in national politics and one we haven’t figured out, as a society, how to deal with.  *               *               *

I spoke slowly and succinctly. “Pricks like you get away with your bullshit because you refuse to play by the rules, but you expect everyone else to. I’m not that guy. You dare threaten the people I care about? You should have done better research.”

Review: "Them Bones" by David Housewright

 

Them Bones by David Housewright Minotaur Books, 2025   David Housewright’s Them Bones—which is the twenty-second Rushmore McKenzie mystery—is a tale of… well, two tales of the same story. Okay, not really two tales, but rather a single story told in two different styles. The McKenzie books are written in first person from the perspective of McKenzie—an unlicensed private eye in Minnesota’s Twin Cities, that spends his time doing favors for friends. But Them Bones is distinct from its predecessors because the crime is detailed in third person from the perspective of the client, Angela Bjork. We last saw Angela as a girl saving McKenzie’s life in The Taking of Libbie, SD (2010), but now she is all grown up and working on her Ph.D. in paleontology at the University of Minnesota. Angela discovered a nearly intact fossil of an Ankylosaurus while working a dinosaur dig in Montana. It was a profound find because it is the most complete of its kind, but before the bones can be transported to the Twin Cities, the skull was stolen. Angela tells McKenzie, and the reader, about the discovery (in May) and the heist (in August) and everything that happened in-between. In this unofficial prologue, Angela introduces the suspects—professors, students, and other miscellany—that were present at the dig site when the heist occurred. The paleontology stuff was interesting, including how the dig was done, the problems they encountered and personalities involved; however, it took so long, about a quarter of the narrative, that I had begun thinking McKenzie had the week off. But once McKenzie agrees to help Angela recover the Ankylosaurus, and he takes charge of the narrative things really pick up. In fact, Them Bones, suddenly becomes a McKenzie novel. With his subtle and not-so-subtle wit, his penchant for finding trouble and breaking the rules, and his always gallant search for justice, McKenzie does an admirable job of flushing out the villains. The action moves from college campuses (there are two), to a museum, to high class neighborhoods, and from Minnesota to Montana to Canada and back again. And it is a good bit of fun. But that opening prologue made the entire enterprise a little wobbly. Its length almost made me give up before the good stuff started, which I’ve never encountered with David Housewright’s writing. It felt like Housewright was setting-up a traditional whodunit, which is cool, but (for me at least) it never quite worked that way. What I did like about Them Bones is far more than what I disliked. As usual, the setting—the Twin Cities, Montana, and even rural Canada—was vivid and melded perfectly with the story. The actual mystery, who was the Inside Man that helped the thieves steal the skull, is compelling and McKenzie’s self-deprecating style and often flippant attitude is fun. There is a good deal of subterfuge and the final reveal is both surprising and perfectly right. But a few hours spent with McKenzie, even in a flawed tale like Them Bones, is always a chore to look forward to.

Find Them Bones on Amazon—click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback.

Booked (and Printed): April 2025

Booked (and Printed) April, 2025     April in Vermont is a marvelous potpourri of good and bad weather. It snowed, the sun glimmered, trees began leafing, and a handful of 70-degree days popped here and there. And of course, it wouldn’t be Vermont without mud. Tax Day came and went, my daughter received a couple school awards for being respectful—we could all learn something from her. When I wasn’t fretting, doing chores, and trying to make a living, I read. There were seven books, all novels, and two short stories. April saw my first DNF, did not finish, of the year, too, which I’ll get back to later because I really wanted to like it, but I really didn’t. The month started with David Housewright’s sixth Rushmore McKenzie novel, JELLY’S GOLD (2009). I read it out of order—I’m up to the fourteenth title overall—because it’s not in the library’s stacks. This visit with an earlier version of St. Paul’s favorite unlicensed private eye felt a little like time traveling since McKenzie’s circumstances have changed in the intervening years. In Jelly’s Gold, he still lives in Falcon Heights (rather than in Minneapolis with Nina) and drives an Audi (rather than a Mustang). It also marks the first appearance of one of my favorite supporting characters: Heavenly Petryk. Heavenly is movie star gorgeous, a self-described salvage expert specializing in brokering deals for stolen artifacts, and she is unscrupulous as hell. McKenzie is giddy when an old friend, Ivy Flynn, approaches him for help finding a couple million dollars of stolen gold bullion hidden somewhere in St. Paul in the 1930s by the notorious gangster, Frank “Jelly” Nash. The hunt is rooted in academic research, but only after McKenzie agrees to help does he discover there is more going on than he had been told. Another team of researchers are snapping at their heels—including the lovely Heavenly—and an unknown man begins tailing McKenzie around town. There is a good deal of St. Paul’s history as a sanctuary city for gangsters in the 1920s and 1930s included in the narrative—it was all new to me and super interesting, too—while never slowing the story or the fun. And Jelly’s Gold is bunches and bunches of fun with McKenzie’s smart-alecky narration, its bushelful of action, and sharp plotting. My first (of only two) short stories for the month was Henning Mankell’s nifty “THE MAN ON THE BEACH” (1999). This early Kurt Wallender novelette is a treasure for fans of Mankell and Wallander or anyone with a bent towards traditional mysteries with a dark edge. Read more about it in my review here. Next up was Domenic Stansberry’s excellent noirish crime novel, MANIFESTO FOR THE DEAD (2000), featuring real-life paperback writer Jim Thompson as the luckless hero. A marvelously entertaining novel with a few surprises and a vivid 1970s Hollywood setting. It’s a book I liked enough to read twice: the first time was all the way back in 2005. You can read my thoughts about this second reading here. Speaking of books starting with M. I received an advanced copy of Mary Dixie Carter’s excellent gothic psychological thriller, MARGUERITE BY THE LAKE (2025). I read it in just a few sittings and loved every word. My review is scheduled for May 19, and Marguerite by the Lake is set for release on May 20, 2025. Do me a favor and come back when my official review drops.
April also saw me dip my toes back into Stephen King’s literary world. Man, I love this guy’s work! His 1984 thriller, THINNER, was released as the fourth book with King’s then-secret nom de plume, Richard Bachman. The NAL hardcover edition even included an author photograph of a sketchy looking dude that is most definitely not Stephen King. At least not the Stephen King I’ve come to recognize over the decades. King was identified as Bachman when an enterprising bookstore clerk found a copyright filing that identified Stephen King as Richard Bachman. And presto—the maestro of horror was outed.
If you’ve been alive for any part of the last thirty years, it’s likely you know what happens in Thinner: an obese lawyer, Billy Halleck, is cursed by a 106-year-old Romani man after Billy hits and kills the man’s daughter with his, Halleck’s car. The curse? Halleck, who has been unsuccessfully dieting for years, will get thinner and thinner until he is no more. While Thinner is a second- or third-tier novel in King’s canon, it is a little sparser than his usual, it is still damn fun. And that ending? Pitch perfect! Check out the author photo of Richard Bachman on the right.  Another of my sneak peeks for the month was Stark House’s reprint of MAKE WITH THE BRAINS, PIERRE, by Dana Wilson. Its scheduled release date is June 6. Originally published in 1946, this psychological thriller is a brutal examination of Hollywood with a Cornell Woolrich-type bleakness. Which is saying, the story doesn’t match its farcical title at all. Come back on June 5 to read all my thoughts about Make with the Brains, Pierre.
Last year I read my first novel by J. D. Rhoades, Breaking Cover (2009), and loved it. So when I stumbled across his first book and the first in his Jack Keller series, THE DEVIL’S RIGHT HAND (2005), I jumped on it. Keller is a bail enforcement officer (aka bounty hunter) with a loner mentality and a tendency towards violence. Or maybe violence has tendency towards Keller. While apprehending a bail-jumper, DeWayne, on the hook for a B&E, Keller crashes into a killing scene—three men with guns beat Keller to the house where DeWayne is hiding out intending to kill him. But with a little luck, and Keller’s willingness to get his hands dirty, DeWayne escapes with his life. And Keller is chasing him like nobody’s business. The Devil’s Right Hand is brisk and violent. Keller gets beat up, he beats others up, and the body count is impressively high. Written with a hardboiled kick—a style I really liked—and bunches of action. Heck, there’s a shoot-out just outside a North Carolina courthouse. And Keller is a kick ass, over-the-top hero with a rich backstory and enough swagger to get out of most of the trouble he wades into. My final short story, “SNOOKERED,” by the unfamiliar (to me at least) Gerald Tomlinson, is on the other side of the mystery genre from The Devil’s Right Hand since it depends on misdirection and irony rather than pedal-to-the-metal action. Published in the Sept. 1983 issue of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, this smile-inducing caper tale mixes fraud and college football with the best of intentions. A nice climactic twist gives it enough punch to make it worth seeking out. I read Denis Johnson’s fantastic literary western, TRAIN DREAMS (2002), as part my 2025 goal to explore new literary worlds outside my usual haunts. And I’m glad I did because it is a damn fine tale. Advertised as a novella, which is accurate, Train Dreams has enough story and meaning for a full novel. Do yourself a favor and read this book, but first read my detailed review of it here. I started and failed to finish Kate Flora’s DEATH AT THE WHEEL (1996). This third Thea Kozak mystery disappointed on almost every element. The characters were cartoonish. The plot and subplots were lifeless. Thea was unlikable. And the mystery? It never really started; at least it hadn’t when I quit reading at the halfway mark. Better critics than I rated Death at the Wheel as the weakest of Flora’s Thea Kozak novels, which is something, but I doubt I’ll try Kozak or Flora again. Oh yeah. Now for something positive. My favorite book of the month? Train Dreams, with Marguerite by the Lake as my favorite mystery. Fin— Now on to next month…

Review: "A Hard Ticket Home" by David Housewright

 

A Hard Ticket Home by David Housewright Minotaur Books, 2004   David Housewright’s first Rushmore McKenzie, A Hard Ticket Home, had escaped my reading eye until now. Before turning its first page, I had read eleven of the 22 books in the series so far and it was fun to see how McKenzie has changed from his first outing to the latest. One thing I noticed—many of McKenzie’s friends, including his best pal Bobby Dunston, call him, “Mac,” which isn’t the case as the series goes on. Another is, McKenzie is moodier in this first story than any of the others I’ve read. Of course he kills a few people and another is killed because of his snooping. But for the most part McKenzie is the same dented and likable hero as he has always been. A Hard Ticket Home opens with a telling of how a St. Paul beat cop, McKenzie, became a millionaire, and it was fun to have the nitty gritty of his future wealth spelled out. But the real meat of the story is about McKenzie’s search for Jamie Carlson. Seven years earlier, Jamie went missing from her parents’ Grand Rapids, Minnesota, home. Her parents—Jamie’s father built a deck for McKenzie’s lake house, which is how they’re acquainted—didn’t search for Jamie when she disappeared but now their younger daughter, Stacy, has leukemia and they are hoping Jamie is a match as a bone marrow donor. McKenzie tracks Jamie down without difficulty, which is when his (and Jamie’s) trouble begins. That trouble takes McKenzie inside a ruthless street gang, onto the guest list of an elite group of entrepreneurs, and turns him into a play thing of the FBI and ATF. A Hard Ticket Home’s Minnesota is less finely detailed than in the future books, but even so, the setting is nicely rendered. It is good fun to watch McKenzie and his series long paramour, Nina Truhler, meet in Nina’s jazz club, Rikkie’s, for the first time. The action, and as one expects from McKenzie there is a bunch, is top-notch and exciting. There are shootings, fisticuffs—including one that nearly kills McKenzie—and even an explosion. The mystery is fine-tuned with more than a couple twists, including a marvelous one near the end. Even better, McKenzie is his usual flawed, smart-alecky, and likable as hell self.

Find A Hard Ticket Home on Amazon—click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback.

Review: "Pretty Girl Gone" by David Housewright

 

Pretty Girl Gone
by David Housewright
Minotaur Books, 2006

 

 

Pretty Girl Gone, David Housewright’s entertaining third Rushmore McKenzie mystery, finds McKenzie doing a favor for his old high school friend, Lindsay Barrett. Lindsay’s husband, Jack, is the newly elected governor of Minnesota. Lindsay panics when she receives an unsigned email warning her that if Jack runs for the U.S. Senate, he will be exposed for murdering his high school sweetheart, Elizabeth Rogers.
     Jack was a basketball star—he led his tiny high school team, known as the Minnesota Seven, to a state championship during his senior year—and Elizabeth was the most beautiful girl in school. The night before the championship game, Elizabeth was found strangled to death and her murder was never solved. Lindsay asks McKenzie to find who sent the email. He quickly tracks the IP address, from where the email originated, to a copy and print store in Victoria, Minnesota. When McKenzie arrives in the small town, he is stonewalled by pretty much everyone, except for the sexy interim police chief, Danny Mallinger. Along the way McKenzie decides he needs to solve the decades old murder to fulfill his promise to Lindsay.
     Pretty Girl Gone is a captivating tale loaded with duplicity, doubt, cunning—not necessarily McKenzie’s—red-herrings, bad decisions—mostly McKenzie’s—and enough action and mystery to keep almost every reader satisfied. Housewright adeptly explores the issues of race and racism in the form of immigration discontent without losing sight of the primary mystery. The setting, as always in this series, is bright and central to the narrative; this time giving the reader an experience with a bleak winter in smalltown Minnesota. McKenzie is a smart-aleck, tough, often rash, and always fallible, which gives him just the right mix for reader likability. Pretty Girl Gone is a solid entry in the series, which begs for the reader to find the next McKenzie book.

Click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback at Amazon.

Review: "Tin City" by David Housewright

 Tin City
by David Housewright
Minotaur Books, 2005

 

Tin City is David Housewright’s excellent second mystery featuring unlicensed private eye Rushmore McKenzie. When asked, McKenzie readily agrees to help his late-father’s best friend, the beekeeper Mr. Mosley, investigate what is killing his bees. It seems like a simple favor, but McKenzie quickly changes his mind when the doctoral student he hired to collect and analyze samples around Mosely’s property, looking for bee-killing toxins, is shot at by Mosely’s new neighbor, Frank Crosetti. And things turn uglier when an execution-style murder upends McKenzie’s simple favor.
     It seems obvious Crosetti is the villain, but before McKenzie can confront him, Crosetti disappears. In a hurry, McKenzie discovers Frank Crosetti is a man without a past. In fact, his name is borrowed from a former New York Yankees shortstop. A hovering FBI agent and, as McKenzie keeps investigating, a warrant for his, McKenzie’s, arrest makes it appear Crosetti is being protected by the feds. To keep out of jail and in the hunt, McKenzie goes into hiding and follows the clues to a quiet suburban trailer park where the investigation heats up.
     Publishers Weekly said David Housewright, in Tin City, “[channels] Raymond Chandler with tongue-in-cheek humor,” which is an apt comparison because McKenzie is a sharp and witty observer with a wicked, smart-alecky tongue. His observations, which are more numerous in Tin City than the other books I’ve read so far, are brief and fit nicely into the story. My favorite of the lot, probably because I agree with it so much, is about libraries:     

“I’ve always loved libraries, the very idea of them. They’re citadels of peace and quiet and intellectual freedom and civilization—commodities that are becoming increasingly difficult to come by. They are, in a word, the most ‘democratic’ places on earth, although they’ve been finding it harder to remain that way.”

But Tin City isn’t a dry, preachy tome. There is plenty of action, fisticuffs and gunplay both. A solid mystery that is sensible and with enough surprises to keep it interesting. The Twin Cities, Minnesota, setting is a major player in the narrative and McKenzie makes certain it is known he is from St. Paul rather than Minneapolis. The plotting is concise and McKenzie, flaws, ego, and all, is a damn likable character. The sort of guy we—all of us juvenile-minded males—wish we could be.

Click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback at Amazon.

Review: "The Devil May Care" by David Housewright

 

The Devil May Care

by David Housewright

Minotaur Books, 2014

 

 

David Housewright’s eleventh Rushmore McKenzie mystery, The Devil May Care, is a thinking man’s thriller with a bit of humor—in the form of McKenzie’s first-person commentary and snappy rapport with everyone in the story—and a complex, but nicely compact plot. McKenzie resigned from the St. Paul, Minnesota, police department to collect a multi-million-dollar reward in a fraud investigation and now he does whatever he wants, including doing favors for friends as an unlicensed P.I.
     When McKenzie is approached by twenty-something Riley Brodin, the granddaughter of one of Minnesota’s wealthiest men, Walter Muehlenhaus, wanting his help to find her missing fiancé, Juan Carlos Navarre, McKenzie’s instinct is to walk away. He and Muehlenhaus butted heads during another investigation, and the aggravation of working for the family isn’t appealing to McKenzie. But Riley shows real concern for Navarre and ultimately charms McKenzie by sharing her grandfather’s nickname for him: “f**king McKenzie”; but truthfully, the moniker losses its luster the more McKenzie hears it. The missing persons case gets on his nerves, too, since Navarre doesn’t seem to exist. And when a defunct street gang begins following McKenzie around and people start dying violently, all he can do is follow the clues where they take him. And hope no one he likes gets hurt.
     Publishers Weekly called The Devil May Care “exceptional” and gave it a starred review. A sentiment I share because everything in this detective thriller works. The characters have enough realism to make them relatable. The plot, which is wonderfully twisty and surprising, has an easy-going attitude and every inch of it gets McKenzie in deeper trouble. St. Paul and environs is drawn to perfection, from the people to the landscape (including all those fabulous lakes). But it is McKenzie that makes everything sizzle with his ironic first-person commentary, his low-wattage Knight-errant syndrome, and his ability to mix and mash with anyone from poverty row to country clubs. The Devil May Care is my first experience with Housewright’s writing, but there will be many more since finishing that last page made me a little sad.

Click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback at Amazon.