Paula Messina Reviews: The Fireballer by Mark Stevens

  

Please welcome author Paula Messina back to the blog today…

The Fireballer

by Paula Messina

 

The Fireballer, a novel by Mark Stevens, is the story of Baltimore Oriole rookie pitcher Frank Ryder who can put the ball over the plate at more than 100 mph. Fueled by Ryder’s gas, the hapless Orioles are at last truly in the pennant race. Ryder is haunted by an accident his errant ball caused when he was twelve years old. Ten years later, Ryder is a phenom, a pitcher who is untouchable.

He has achieved his goal of playing in the majors, but he can’t relax and enjoy his success. Ryder misses Maggie, his girlfriend, who is hundreds of miles away in school, but if he’s willing, there are plenty of women lined up who are even more willing. He has the sudden wealth that is heaped on athletes, so he can afford a fancy condo with a fabulous view. But it’s icy, not a home. He’s been convinced to wear expensive duds, but he feels like a fraud. Ryder is recognized everywhere he goes, and he has no clue how to handle himself. He’s a once-in-a-lifetime pitcher driven by his love for the game. All he wants to do is throw strikes and win games.

And underlying everything is that accident Frank Ryder cannot escape.

Fireballer is about guilt and redemption. It is also about baseball, a big business that eats its own.

Ryder’s pitching prowess makes him a freak. His success makes the baseball union and the commission decidedly uncomfortable. They want to ban those 105 mph pitches. After all, how can the bigwigs watch baseball’s best hitters stand helplessly at the plate while their batting averages wallow in the toilet. Not to mention the possibility fans will become bored with all that Frank Ryder winning.

Before the union and commission can impose a speed limit, Ryder’s teammate is beaned and out for the rest of the season. The unwritten rule in baseball is that the pitcher retaliates. Tit for tat. We lose one. You lose one. His teammates on the field, in the dugout, and in the bullpen expect Ryder to do the right thing, seek revenge. Only Ryder is having none of it. He shakes off his irate catcher’s signals to bean the batter.

The next pitch has a mind of its own and hits the batter in his torso. He’s down, definitely out, and not moving.

Nobody believes it was an accident. Ryder is suspended.

But far worse, Ryder’s arm goes AWOL. He’s a pitching phenomenon who cannot pitch.

The reader roots for Frank Ryder to overcome his past and find happiness because he is a normal Joe, a good person overwhelmed by circumstances. His pitching is freakish. He is not. We know Frank Ryder. He’s your next-door neighbor, the kid you went to high school with, or your first cousin lucky enough to make it to the majors. He’s normal in every way except when he picks up a baseball and steps onto the mound.

Can Frank Ryder revive his arm, or is he a flash in the pan whose time has already come and gone?

 At times, it’s painful to read Ryder’s story. I mean this in the best way possible. His agony is so real, so visceral the reader can’t help but be moved. Most of us never come close to that kind of fame and success, but we all experience guilt and the need for redemption. We know what it’s like to struggle to recapture a part of ourselves that was lost. It’s man’s fate.

The novel’s tension dips when Ryder turns his energy to philanthropy by visiting a school. This isn’t a surprise. Ryder’s humanity spends most of the novel hovering around the edges waiting to surface, but Ryder and the students struggle to communicate. The chapter would have benefited from a bit of judicious pruning. It’s the pressure Ryder puts on himself and inflicted by the Orioles staff, the union, and the baseball commission that fuels the novel. The Orioles’ race for the American League Pennant and the biggest prize of all, the World Series, keeps the reader turning pages. We want Frank Ryder to prevail because he is one of us.

Despite the philanthropy dip, the writing is solid. Stevens creates characters that readers identify with and care about. He’s a master of description. Ryder’s twin brother “broods on problems. Ryder only played chess with Josh if they used a timer.”

Stevens lets the reader hear the ball as it smacks into the pitcher’s glove and the sound of the fans in the bleachers. “The crowd buzzes. It’s the hum of humanity. It’s restlessness. It’s wonder. It’s 37,700 squirming fans who have agreed through some sort of telepathic communion to react as one.”

 Fireballer reminds us that baseball once was America’s favorite pastime, and within its pages, Frank Ryder, is our favorite player.

Mark Stevens, a Massachusetts native, lives in Colorado and writes The Flynn Martin Thriller and The Allison Coil Mystery Series. In 2016 and  2023, Stevens was recognized as the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers’ Writer of the Year. Stevens knows his baseball, and he is a wise man. He does not like the designated hitter, neither does Frank Ryder.

The Fireballer is a grand slam that should be designated to the top of your to-be-read pile.

 

 

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Paula Messina ©2026 

Paula Messina writes the Donatello Laguardia stories, which are set in Boston’s North End during the 1940s. They appeared in the Best New England Crime Stories 2024 and 2025 and another Donatello Laguardia short story is scheduled to appear in Black Cat Weekly. She lives near America’s first public beach.

 

Paula Messina Reviews: The Secret Hangman by Peter Lovesey

 

Please welcome author Paula Messina back to the blog today…

 

  

The Secret Hangman

by Paula Messina

 

The Secret Hangman by Peter Lovesey begins with Inspector Peter Diamond receiving a letter from a secret admirer. Far from mysterydom’s cuddliest detective, Diamond is surprised any woman is interested in meeting him. Nevertheless, the woman who has the hots for Diamond optimistically suggests they meet at the Saracen’s Hotel on Thursday evening.

Diamond wouldn’t be Diamond if he wrote the date down in his calendar. It’s fair to guess Diamond doesn’t own a calendar of any sort. Besides, he put the secret admirer out of mind as he quickly moved on to search for a missing mother, Delia Williamson.

The next day, a woman is found hanging from a swing’s crossbar in Bath’s Sydney Gardens. You don’t need to be an avid mystery fan to know with absolute certainty that the dangling woman is Delia Williamson.

Her death is obviously a suicide. At least that’s what Diamond and everyone else believe until the pathologist points out “two sets of ligature marks.”

Murder it is.

Diamond returns to his office to find a chocolate cake in wait. The secret admirer strikes again. After Diamond and crew polish off the cake, they attempt to trace Williamson’s final hours. She worked her shift as a waitress at Tosi’s. Did she leave with the waiter Luigi or with the last diner, Dalton Monnington, a Jacuzzi salesman? Or was the murderer closer to home? Say her live-in lover, the rather cool Ashley Corcoran? Or is it possible that Danny Geaves, Williamson’s former partner and the father of her children, had it in for her?

Diamond wants to speak to Geaves, only he’s vanished without that proverbial trace.

Until he is found hanging from a bridge.

Meanwhile, Diamond, his larder empty, goes grocery shopping and manages to drive over another customer’s bags. After Diamond pays to replace her destroyed food, the owner invites him for a drink that night, which is how Diamond meets Paloma Kean and her son Jerry, a devote Christian who volunteers at hospitals in the area.

Another woman is found hanged, and days later, her missing husband is found suffering from a similar fate. When a third woman is found at the end of a noose, it’s obvious a serial killer is on the loose. Diamond begins a frantic search to find the third missing husband before it’s too late.

Hangman takes lots of twists, and Diamond runs through his list of suspects before finally solving the who and why of the mystery. The only remaining question is the fate of his relationship with Paloma Kean.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that we have a master plotter at work. Among the many honors bestowed on Peter Lovesey (1936-2025) are the MWA Grandmaster Award for Lifetime Achievement, the CWA Gold and Silver Daggers, and the Diamond Dagger for Lifetime Achievement.

Lovesey’s also great at spinning characters with real depth and personality. Peter Diamond is a wonderful character worth revisiting in the other books in the series. He’s irascible but vulnerable, not quite the curmudgeon he presents to the world, and he has a sense of humor. Diamond’s still reeling from the murder of his wife Steph three years before Hangman begins, and the scenes with Paloma are touching and tender. It’s impossible not to root for Paloma to appear in the next mystery.

The series also boasts an admirable cast of supporting characters. There’s the well endowed Georgina, Diamond’s boss whom he frequently locks horns with, and his underlings, the delightful Ingeborg, the insufferable John Leaman, and the long-suffering Keith Halliwell.

Readers enjoy visiting locations mentioned in their favorite books. Arthur Conan Doyle died in 1930, taking Sherlock Holmes and John Watson with him to the grave—at least in theory. Nearly one hundred years later, fans still flock to the non-existent 221B Baker Street, perhaps expecting Mrs. Hudson to open the door and invite them to wait upstairs for Holmes’ return. So it’s not surprising that another well developed character in the Diamond series is Bath itself. Diamond climbs hills and descends into Bath’s many caves. The places mentioned are real, not figments of Lovesey’s imagination.

While reading Hangman, I had the sense I could visit the places described and pop in for a pint at the Old Crown, maybe even chat up Diamond himself, or perhaps spy on Paloma and Diamond when they meet up at the Saracen’s Hotel for a little tipple. It turns out Lovesey used to conduct tours of Bath.

I was convinced that I had figured out early the connection between the three ill-fated couples and the murderer. I resisted the temptation to jump ahead and confirm whether I was correct. Of course, I’m not spilling the beans. You’ll have to read The Secret Hangman to find out whodunnit. I can tell you this: Peter Diamond and crew are well worth your time.

  

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Paula Messina ©2026 

Paula Messina writes the Donatello Laguardia stories, which are set in Boston’s North End during the 1940s. They appeared in the Best New England Crime Stories 2024 and 2025 and another Donatello Laguardia short story is scheduled to appear in Black Cat Weekly. She lives near America’s first public beach.

Paula Messina Reviews: Before Midnight by Rex Stout

 Please welcome author Paula Messina back to the blog today…

 

 

Before Midnight

by Paula Messina

 

I knew it was my lucky day when I found Before Midnight, a Nero Wolfe mystery I hadn’t read. I’ve lost count of the Rex Stout mysteries I have read. He’s an author I often return to. Before Midnight didn’t disappoint.

All the elements that make Rex Stout a popular mystery writer are here. The crime is so complicated only a genius of Nero Wolfe’s ilk can solve it. Archie’s as witty and charming as ever. Nero Wolfe is his stubborn, inflexible self.

It’s his way or the highway when Attorney Rudolph Hansen, accompanied by Messrs. Oliver Buff, Patrick O’Garro, and Mr. Vernon Assa, descends on West 35th Street uninvited and  demand Wolfe abort his eleven o’clock tete-a-tete with the orchids on the brownstone’s top floor.

And what matter is so dire the orchids should be abandoned? Not the murder of Louis Dahlmann. Oh, no, not that. It’s Dahlmann’s missing wallet, which contained the answers for a contest to promote Pour Amour cosmetics, that is the pressing issue.

Hansen represents Lippert, Buff and Assa, an advertising agency. LBA’s major client is Heery Products, which sells the Pour Amour cosmetics line. Dahlmann, LBA’s late wunderkind who conceived the idea for a contest with its million dollars in prizes, had the audacity to take a bullet to his chest when the contest was in its waning days.

Dahlmann’s sins are even greater. The afternoon before his inconvenient demise, he waved the sheet of paper with the answers in front of the final five contestants.

Now LBA and Heery Products are in a very sour pickle. Dahlmann’s dead, and no one knows who has the contest’s answers.

After much wrangling, Wolfe agrees to undertake a search to discover who removed the wallet from Dahlmann’s pocket and made away with the contest answers. For once, Wolfe—and he is absolutely adamant on this point—is not investigating a murder.

Is the murderer the wallet thief, or was each crime committed separately? Is the wallet thief Attorney Hansen? Someone from LBA? Heery Products owner Talbott Heery? Or one of the final five contestants? The murder scene provides no clues. Interviewing the lot proves fruitless. With nothing to go on, Wolfe’s genius is of little value.

Then a second body drops.

Wolfe blames himself for the death and takes to his bed. But Wolfe finally puts his genius to work, earns his substantial fee, and throws in the solution to Dahlmann’s murder gratis.

As a reader, characters are important to me. They need to be individuals I’m willing to spend time with. Archie Goodwin and Nero Wolfe fill that bill. The introduction to Before Midnight is by Robert Crais, and he lays out a convincing argument that the power of this mystery series is the friendship between Nero Wolfe and his chronicler, Archie Goodwin. I concur.

Crais quotes Rex Stout: “Here are two friends. Here are two people sharing their lives. As you wish for friendship, share in theirs. As you seek companionship, share in theirs. As you search for love, search in theirs.”

After listing many literary couplings, Craig says, “The appeal of friendship is old, and the pleasures inherent in such fictional pairings are no less valid today than they were in the days of Holmes and Watson, or in the thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, and seventies—the incredible five decades through which Stout published Nero Wolfe.”

In creating Nero Wolfe, Stout clearly was inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle. Just as the strength of the Holmes mysteries is the friendship between Sherlock and John Watson, Archie Goodwin and Nero Wolfe’s relationship is paramount. It contrasts with that of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. Goodwin is not a sidekick. He is Wolfe’s partner in crime solving. The housebound Wolfe acknowledges that Goodwin is the eyes and legs of the partnership. They’re equals. Holmes, on the other hand, often acts more as a teacher, lording over Watson with his superior intellect and vast knowledge.

Archie’s needling to rouse the lazy Nero to get to work might suggest otherwise, but the pair share a deep respect and filial love. If you have any doubt, read Death of a Dude in which Wolfe doesn’t just venture outside into the wilds of New York, he flies to Montana to assist Archie.

There’s another reason Stout is admired by so many writers. His simple style is deceiving. His descriptions are always unique. For example, in Midnight, he doesn’t tell us contestant Gertrude Frazee has a crooked smile. That would never do.

“When she spoke her lips wanted to move perpendicular to the slant, but her jaw preferred straight up and down. You might have thought that after so many years, at least sixty, they would have come to an understanding, but nothing doing.”

The description is pure Archie Goodwin. His wit is another reason the series has never gone out of print. Archie’s intelligence is often overlooked. Maybe he isn’t the genius Wolfe is, but he’s no slouch when it comes to those gray cells.

For my money, Nero is misunderstood. Yes, he’s hardly the cuddliest guy in the literary world, but he’s not callous. While Archie guarantees a fun time whether it’s watching a Mets game or dancing into the wee hours, Nero is a fantastic host. You might not want to dine with him every night as Archie does, but you can take this to the bank: The food would be five-star Michelin and the conversation scintillating.

Just as Arthur Conan Doyle occasionally drops the veil hiding Sherlock Holmes tender side, Stout gives us glimpses into Wolfe’s sensitivity. If you doubt this, check out The Golden Spiders.

I’m in the same camp as Dame Agatha Christie. I read Stout for Archie, not Wolfe. This is from the Wolfe Pack website: Dame Agatha Christie was a huge Rex Stout fan. She was known to go to her local bookstore and enquire after the latest Archie Goodwin novel. The clerk would gently remind her that they're referred to as Nero Wolfe mysteries, to which Christie would reply, "Nonsense! Everyone knows that Archie does all the work!"

 
 

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Puala Messina ©2026 

Paula Messina writes the Donatello Laguardia stories, which are set in Boston’s North End during the 1940s. They appeared in the Best New England Crime Stories 2024 and 2025 and another Donatello Laguardia short story is scheduled to appear in Black Cat Weekly. She lives near America’s first public beach.

Paula Messina Reviews: The Priest by Joseph Caruso

 Please welcome back author Paula Messina to the blog today. By the way, when I was looking for cover images for the piece today, I cam across this regarding the author and the West End Museum.

  

The Priest

 

by Paula Messina

 

 

I write historical fiction. One of my recurring characters and his family live in Boston’s North End. He occasionally ventures into nearby Scollay Square and the West End. Hoping to uncover some delectable morsel to use in my writing, I recently visited the West End Museum.

The museum was enjoyable, but I didn’t uncover anything I didn’t already know. That is until I spotted a dark blue, thin volume in one of the display cases, Joseph Caruso’s The Priest. Published in 1956, both novel and writer were new to me. I left the museum hoping that The Priest would provide that tasty tidbit I’d been searching for. I can’t say I found it. Instead, I discovered something far more rewarding, a gripping novel.

The priest in question is thirty-eight-year-old Father Octavio Scarpi, the eighth and youngest surviving son of an Italian fisherman. ‘Tavio is huge, so huge he cannot fasten his Roman collar. He is not Hollywood handsome, nor is he blessed with a plain face. A former boxer, fisherman, and World War II soldier, the priest has a “crooked, broken nose.” He’s an ugly giant whose exceptional strength is his undoing.

Father Scarpi is assigned to St. Dominic’s in the West End, where he grew up. He is haunted by the death of his brother Onofrio and a war-time rape. A priest who hears confessions and absolves others of their sins, he cannot forgive himself.

The novel begins as a jury returns to the courtroom with its verdict. Joseph Shannan, a gangster who unquestionably has earned a place behind bars, is found guilty of the murder of Ellen Greer. When asked by the judge if he wishes to speak before sentencing, Shannan tells the judge, “What’s there to say?...I been saying I didn’t do it.”

Father Scarpi is called to hear the confession of the dying Vincent Spinale. Grabbing the priest’s wrist, Spinale begs for absolution after divulging, “I have sinned….I killed a woman, father….Greer. I killed Ellen Greer. Save me, Father!”

Father Scarpi grants Spinale absolution as the confessor lapses into a coma. Bound by the seal of confession, the priest cannot reveal that Vincent Spinale is Ellen Greer’s murderer. All hope of convincing Spinale to confess to the authorities is doomed when he dies. Short of a miracle, the for-once-innocent Joseph Shannan will die in the electric chair.

His lips might be sealed, but that doesn’t keep Father Scarpi from attempting to right a wrong. He visits Shannan, whose real name is Peppino Schianno, in prison. Shannan recognizes ‘Tavio. Peppino and Onofrio were best friends. The meeting stirs Father Scarpi’s memory of the first time he and Peppino met. An enraged Octavio “poleaxed” his inebriated brother Onofrio. Their brothers Victor and Anthony as well as Peppino restrained the massive Octavio as he lifted Onofrio “to hit him again.”

The priest becomes obsessed with Shannan and disobeys his superiors in a desperate effort to save his dead brother’s friend. As he struggles to save Shannan from the electric chair,  Father Scarpi discovers Ellen Greer’s murder hinged on rape. Ultimately, Octavio Scarpi, who cannot escape his guilt in Onofrio’s death and the rape he committed during the war, cannot save Shannan. Devastated by his failure, the priest decides to leave the priesthood.

Caruso doesn’t sensationalize Father Scarpi’s dilemma. Instead, he depicts a very human, deeply vulnerable man haunted by his violent past. Father Scarpi has lots of company. St. Dominic’s other priests suffer from the same affliction as do others, including Beneditto Scarpi, the priest’s father, who blames himself for his wife’s early death. These Christians, who all believe God forgives sins, cannot forgive themselves.

Beneditto tells Octavio, “There is guilt in all of us, but at times the feeling of guilt is more than the act that brought it on.”

Because of his failure to save Shannan, ‘Tavio resoves his Roman collar and leaves the priesthood. His brother John is unable to convince him to return to St. Dominic. He tells the priest, “What I am doesn’t matter. It’s you that matters. You are another man’s hope….Would you deprive your parishioners of their hopes just for your own feelings of guilt?”

John sees what his brother Octavio, blinded by guilt, cannot see. Father Scarpi is respected by his parishioners, who seek and need his comfort and guidance. The priest, who believes his physical strength is his greatest weakness, fails to recognize his real strength, his faith.

The Priest portrays a vibrant community of Sicilians, Southern Italian immigrants, and their American children in the early 1950s. The men don’t attend Mass, but they and their wives have a deep faith that guides their lives. The men are “calfoni: fruit peddlers, laborers, fishermen.” In other words, they are uncivilized and crude. They may have accents and lack polish, but they live their Old World values, work hard to support their families, and trust in a God they pretend to eschew.

There’s another homicide that hovers unspoken over The Priest: the premeditated murder in the first degree of the West End by the City of Boston. In the name of urban renewal, Boston Mayor John Hynes targeted the destruction of the West End and exiled the calfoni. According to the West End Museum, in 1958 and 1959, more than 12,000 West Enders were evicted. Forty-six acres were leveled. Like the Joni Mitchell’s song, “Big Yellow Taxi,” the city tore down a thriving community to create a parking lot.

That gigantic parking lot remained until 1965 when two towers with 477 apartments were erected along with a gigantic sign that proclaims, “If you lived here, you’d be home now.”

Only the families that had occupied the land for decades could not go home. They couldn’t afford the luxury apartments. To this day, former West Enders lament the destruction of their homes.

Joseph Caruso (1924-2008) was born in Sicily and immigrated to the West End when he was seven years old. A writer, filmmaker, and painter who worked as an Art Director for the Post Office, he received a Bronze Star for bravery during World War II. Caruso was one of the founders of The Committee to Save the West End.

The families that lived in the West End couldn’t stop the government, nor could they stop the inevitable change already underway. The calfoni’s sons and daughters assimilated and abandoned the Old World ways of their parents and ancestors.

Those who lived in the West End still mourn for the vibrant community that was taken from them. Little of Caruso’s West End remains. One exception is St. Joseph Parish, the novel’s St. Dominic. It is still an active church. 

 

Paula Messina ©2026 

Paula Messina writes the Donatello Laguardia stories, which are set in Boston’s North End during the 1940s. They appeared in the Best New England Crime Stories 2024 and 2025 and another Donatello Laguardia short story is scheduled to appear in Black Cat Weekly. She lives near America’s first public beach.

Paula Messina Reviews: Agony Hill by Sarah Stewart Taylor

  

Please welcome back author Paula Messina to the blog today…

 

  

Agony Hill

 

by Paula Messina

 

 

In fiction, character, plot, and setting are equal, but character is more equal. At least that’s true for this reader. If I don’t like the characters or find them intriguing, I’m reluctant to spend time with them. Think about it. We don’t hang around with individuals who are boring or dislikable or nasty. Why should fictional characters be any different?

Agony Hill by Sarah Stewart Taylor is the first novel in her third mystery series. I had no trouble diving in because the characters are both likable and relatable. The main character, Franklin Warren, isn’t a genius à la Sherlock Holmes or Nero Wolfe. He isn’t a barrel of laughs like Donald E. Westlake’s Dortmunder, nor is he an eccentric like Hercule Poirot. He’s a normal guy, but a normal guy haunted by his past. He’s also empathetic and compassionate.

Plot might come in second to character, but it definitely matters. After all, you can’t have a novel without a story. Agony Hill is set during the 1960s, and it opens with Sylvie Weber and her sons swimming in a pond. A stranger appears out of nowhere, waves a knife at Sylvie, and demands she speak to him.

The action shifts to Warren, who has moved from Boston to Bethany, Vermont, to join the state police. He hasn’t had time to unpack when he’s ordered to report to the site of a fire on Agony Hill where Hugh Weber has died. Everyone is convinced he committed suicide, everyone except for Warren.

It was impossible for anyone to enter or exit the barn, but Warren think Weber was murdered. After all, this is a mystery, and the story would end before it barely began if foul play wasn’t suspected. Warren sets out to prove his theory that foul play is afoot.

While investigating, Warren spots someone in the woods. Is he the murderer? Warren chases him but is outrun. The detective isn’t the only one concerned about a suspicious character. Someone had trespassed on Alice Bellows’ property. Warren’s next-door neighbor, Bellows senses that someone is spying on her and is determined to find out who is it. She sets out on her own investigation.

Agony Hill is in the whodunit mode, but it has elements of several mystery sub-genres. The small town where everyone knows each other is definitely a cozy element. Taylor never wanders into John Dickson Carr territory, but the murder takes place in a locked barn with no possible entry or exit. Franklin Warren is a detective, but Agony is not a police procedural. This novel is character driven.

A recurring cast of characters is one reason for readers to wait anxiously for the next book and the book after that. It’s a technique used by the best mystery writers. Sherlock Holmes has his Lestrade, the Baker Street Irregulars, and the infinitely patient Mrs. Hudson. Nero Wolfe has the crew living in his brownstone and catering to his every whim, the cigar-abuser Inspector Cramer, and Archie Goodwin’s favorite dancing partner, Lily Rowan.

I suspect the characters we meet in Agony Hill will appear in subsequent books. Alice Bellows, is something of an amateur sleuth, another cozy element. Pinky Goodrich, a new officer who blushes early and often, is Warren’s sidekick. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Sylvie Weber and her children reappear. It’s obvious from the get-go Warren is drawn to her.

I realized the importance of setting when I gave a writer and Robert Parker fan a tour of Boston. The top item on her list of things to see, the only spot she had to see, was Spenser’s office on the corner of Boylston and Berkeley Streets. The next day, she was off to Cambridge to discover Susan Silverman’s house.

Characters aren’t the only ones who navigate a novel’s setting. Readers do as well. The more vivid the setting, the more readers are immersed in its milieu. I’m not immune either. When I walk down Boylston Street, I often look up at the building on the corner of Boylston and Berkeley and think, “That’s Spenser’s office,” and I look at the empty shop across the street and remember it used to be a Dorothy Muriel’s Bakery.

The imaginary Bethany, Vermont, is as much a character as the rest of the crew. It’s a place where everyone knows his neighbors. The characters are part of a community that cares about the people who live there, and I’m convinced, they’re waiting to welcome readers in the next Franklin Warren mystery. I can imagine Taylor fans searching for the “real” Bethany.

I have one quibble. Boston’s North End is referred to as Little Italy. No Massachusetts native ever refers to the land on Shawmut Peninsula as Little Italy. Warren would know better.

That little hiccup aside, Agony Hill is an engaging read. And yes, there is another Franklin Warren mystery, Hunter’s Heart Ridge. I look forward to reading it.

 

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Paula Messina ©2026 

Paula Messina is writing an historical mystery set in Boston’s North End. Donatello Laguardia, the WIP’s main character, solves crimes in Devil’s Snare and Snakeberry. Her contemporary fiction appears in Black Cat Weekly, The Ekphrastic Review, THEMA, and Wolfsbane. And yes, her Donatello Laguardia stories have recurring characters.

Paula Messina Reviews: A Gentle Murderer by Dorothy Salisbury Davis

 

Please welcome back Paula Messina to the blog today…

 

  

A Gentle Murderer 

By Paula Messina

 

 

The title of Dorothy Salisbury Davis’ novel, A Gentle Murderer, is not an oxymoron. It is ironic. The story begins in the confessional at nine o’clock on a Saturday night. Father Duffy waits “for perhaps one tardy penitent” seeking absolution. The priest is startled by a voice, “having heard no sound near him, nor noticed any light as the curtain parted.” In the dark confessional, Father Duffy sees the outline of a face, and he is reminded of St. Francis.

The man with the saintly visage says he wanted to be a priest. He proceeds to confess to murder. His weapon of choice is a hammer, the only present his mother ever gave him. He mentions one other gift, a prayer book given to him by Father McGohey.

Father Duffy can only provide “conditional absolution,” and attempts to persuade the confessor to turn himself in to the police.

The gentle murderer disappears into the night.

Bound by the seal of confession, Father Duffy cannot share the murder’s confession with anyone, not his bishop, not another priest, not the police. The cleric is left “in darkness. And he had never known a darkness more profound.”

Murderer is not a whodunit. Davis exposes the killer, Tim Brandon, in the third chapter. Brandon is small, insignificant, a would-be poet who cannot keep a job. A boarder in Mrs. Galli’s home, he hasn’t paid the rent. Mrs. Galli’s daughter, Katie, is smitten with the deadbeat. And so is the lonely, passionate widow, Mrs. Galli.

Norah Flaherty, a maid, cleans her way to the bedroom of the sleeping Miss Gerbhardt, a woman of questionable repute. Mrs. Flaherty’s “knees betrayed her in the instant she realizes that she had seen all there was left of Miss Gebhardt’s face….It was not until she reached the foyer that she found her legs and her voice. Then she ran screaming into the hall.”

Detective Sergeant Ben Goldsmith arrives at the murder scene and becomes relentless in his pursuit of the murderer. So too is Father Duffy. After he reads the newspaper report that Miss Gerbhardt was beaten to death with a hammer, he concludes his only clue to the murderer’s identity is the priest who gifted the gentle murderer with a prayer book. He sets off to track down Father McGohey. Thus begins parallel investigations, Sergeant Goldsmith’s pursuit of the killer and Father Duffy’s search for the man he could not grant absolution.

Father Duffy traces Brandon’s earlier life from when he was a child, his time in a seminary, and eventual arrival in New York. He learns Brandon’s father was an abusive alcoholic. The mother smothered her son, but her sins are never spelled out. It also becomes clear that Miss Gerbhardt is not Brandon’s first murder victim. It is likely he will kill again.

Goldsmith understands Father Duffy is somehow involved when the detective learns the priest had questioned Mrs. Flaherty. The visit with Mrs. Flaherty is suspicious. Goldsmith traces Father Duffy’s steps and learn everything the priest uncovers.

Over and over in the novel, Brandon is described as gentle. A number of women in his life protected him, gave him a roof over his head, and acted as a surrogate mother. That was Miss Gebhardt’s failing. She befriended Brandon, only to be rewarded with blows to her head with the hammer Brandon’s mother gave him.

Brandon is like so many real killers. He’s a dreamer. How else would you describe a man who wants to be a poet but barely works at it? He most likely lacks even a modicum of talent. He’s a nonentity who can claim no accomplishments. And yet women fall for him. They want to protect him, salve his wounds, revel in his dreams and empty statements. They repeatedly fail to see that Brandon is a wolf in sheep’s clothing as he struggles to suppress the anger surging under that harmless, benign appearance.

Brandon, a murderous, gentle soul, a misfit, is far from the only sinner in the book. Mrs. Galli lusts after Tim at the same time she attempts to protect her daughter Katie from him. Because of her love for Tim, Katie deceives her mother. Miss Gerbhardt acted like a mother to Tim Brandon, but she was a sinner, a woman of the night. Father Duffy must bear the burden of his moral dilemma alone.

Davis keeps her readers turning the pages because of Father Duffy and Sergeant Goldsmith. The priest and sergeant are not perfect. Then who is? Unlike Tim Brandon, they have a purpose and are committed to completing the mission. They seemingly have different goals. Father Duffy wants to absolve Tim Brandon of his sins. Sergeant Goldsmith wants to bring Brandon to justice. Ultimately, they have the same objective even if the emphasis is different. In one case, it’s to save a soul. In the other, it’s to restore equilibrium to society.

There is a reading group guide at the end of the book. The first question is “who should get credit for cracking the case here—Father Duffy or Ben Goldsmith?” I won’t attempt to answer that question. However, I will suggest that their pursuit is two sides of the same coin. When a person confesses his sins, he is given a penance. Absolution is dependent on completing that penance. Justice without punishment is meaningless, and it leaves the criminal free to violate the laws of man again and again.

Davis keeps the tension throughout the novel. Brandon has run out of options, and the pressure of Mrs. Galli’s lust and Katie’s love is unbearable. The possibility of failure weights heavily on the priest and police sergeant in the dash to stop Tim Brandon from killing again.

 

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Paula Messina ©2025

 

Paula Messina lives within spitting distance of the Atlantic. She writes historical, contemporary, and humorous fiction.

Paula Messina Reviews: The Odor of Violets: A Duncan Maclain Mystery by Baynard Kendrick

 

Please welcome back Paula Messina to the blog today…

  

 

The Odor of Violets

by Paula Messina

 

 

I’d never heard of Baynard Kendrick (1894–1977) and his main character, Duncan Maclain, until I picked up The Odor of Violets (1941). Otto Penzler tells us in his introduction to Violets that Maclain was “[o]ne of the most beloved characters from the Golden Age of Detective fiction and beyond.” Penzler describes Kendrick as “one of the giants” from that period. I asked three well-read mystery writers what they know of Kendrick. Two drew a blank. One had read a few of Kendrick’s short stories.

            How fleeting fame.

Baynard Kendrick was a prolific writer of novels, short stories, and articles. One of the founders of the Mystery Writers of America, he served as its first president. He was also the first American to enlist in the Canadian Army during World War I. It was his experience during that war that led him to an encounter with “a blind British soldier who had the remarkable ability to tell Kendrick things about himself that exceeded what a sighted person might have known.” Kendrick never learned the soldier’s name and never saw him again.

That encounter is described in Kendrick’s foreword. I don’t want to spoil anything but describing it. I’ll let you discover it. I’ll only say that the blind soldier’s accomplishment rivaled—no, make that exceeded—any of Sherlock Holmes’ flights of genius.

As you might have guessed, Duncan Maclain is blind. In his foreword to Violets, Kendrick, who had a life-long interest in blindness and who worked with the blind, tells of a letter he received from Anne Mansfield Sullivan. Well known for her work with Helen Keller, Sullivan said, “You’re a mystery writer…so why not draw on the knowledge that you’ve accumulated and create a blind detective of your own…who would never perform any feat in his detection or deduction that couldn’t be duplicated by someone totally blind—presuming they had the necessary brains and willpower to train themselves to try.”

Kendrick accepted the challenge. Duncan Maclain was born.

Getting back to Violets, Norma Tredwill’s concern about her strained relationship with her step-daughter intensifies when she learns that Babs is dating Paul Gerente, who just happens to be Norma’s ex-husband. She sets off to confront Gerente.

Meanwhile, Gerente visits Duncan Maclain concerning information that must not fall into enemy hands.

Norma arrives at Gerente’s apartment building in time to see Babs fleeing. Norma finds Gerente’s body. Babs goes missing. Did she kill Gerente? Or did the neighbor who confesses to the crime do it? Or was it someone else?

What begins as a straight-forward mystery turns into a story of international intrigue. Maclain suspects the enemy is behind the murder, and he’s worried that information that would devastate the war effort is about to land in the wrong hands. It’s the recurring scent of violets that leads to the murderer.

There are many reasons to read a mystery. If you want a great plot, there’s Agatha Christie. Looking for witty dialogue, try Rex Stout. For humor, Donald E. Westlake never fails. If you’re more interested in something literary, try P.D. James.

Violets doesn’t have a sensational plot. There is little humor, and Kendrick is far from an elegant writer. Ultimately, it’s a mystery writer’s detective that sways readers to pick up a book, and here Baynard Kendrick shines. Think Sherlock Holmes, Sam Spade, Harry Hole, Jack Reacher. Duncan Maclain is a great detective. It’s easy to understand why he was and should continue to be a much beloved character. There’s nothing special about him. He’s not eccentric. It’s obvious he’s bright and talented, but he’s an ordinary guy who happens to be blind. Everything Maclain does fits Sullivan’s bill. There are no stunts. They could be duplicated by someone who is blind. The real intrigue is inhabiting Maclain’s world, “seeing” it through his “eyes.” It’s those eyes that makes for a memorable read.

 

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Paula Messina ©2025

Paula Messina lives within spitting distance of the Atlantic. When she isn’t reading about Archie Goodwin’s adventures, she’s writing fiction, make that historical, contemporary, and humorous fiction.

Paula Messina Reviews: Case with No Conclusion: A Sgt. Beef Mystery by Leo Bruce

  

Please welcome back Paula Messina to the blog today…

 

 

Case with No Conclusion

 

By Paula Messina

 

 

Leo Bruce loves to make fun of mystery writers. Case with No Conclusion is no exception. It begins with Sgt. Beef complaining that his chronicler, Mr. Townsend, is doing him a disservice. “You don’t seem to make much of my cases. Not what some of them do for their detectives….Not like Miss Christie, or Mr. Freeman Wills Croft. They do get taken notice of.”

In turn, Townsend gripes about Beef, and because Townsend is telling the story, he gets to gripe ad infinitum. It’s true Beef previously managed to solve two cases, Townsend tells us, but that was dumb luck. Beef drinks too much beer. He’s easily distracted and barely seems to work. Beef doesn’t speak the King’s English, and he’s a few darts short of a game.

By the end of the novel, Townsend blames Beef for destroying both their careers. “It’s not only yourself you’ve ruined by failing in this case….Here I’ve been working to build up a reputation for you, and the whole things smashed. If you ever get another case there’s not a publisher in London would use the story of it.”

This is not a mutual admiration society akin to the relationship between Sherlock Homes and John Watson. Townsend is never dazzled by Beef.

In No Conclusions, Beef has retired from the police force and set himself up as a private investigator. Much to Townsend’s great surprise. Beef gets his first client when Peter Ferrers hires Beef to investigate the Sydenham Murder and exonerate Peter’s brother Stewart, who is awaiting trial for the murder of Dr. Benson.

Beef admits that things look grim for Stewart. Benson was killed at The Cypresses, Stewart’s home. Stewart’s fingerprints are the only ones on the murder weapon. The house was locked tight, so no one else could have entered and killed the doctor. It’s widely known the doctor’s wife and Stewart have been carrying on an affair, and a heated argument between Stewart and Benson is well documented.

Despite the deck being stacked again Stewart, Beef sets about investigating the murder. Investigating seems like too highfalutin a word. Townsend has a point. Beef’s methods are unusual. Make that odd. At times he barely seems to be doing anything except to insist he knows what he’s doing. Beef can be belligerent while interviewing. He follows leads down a rabbit’s hole, is easily distracted, and refuses to explain himself. Still, Beef is one hundred percent certain Stewart did not kill the doctor.

If only Beef could prove it.

He interviews Benson’s wife and learns that she was not having an affair with Stewart. Peter admits he’s the adulterous guilty party. Besides, Benson knew all about their romantic activities. Indeed, the Bensons planned to divorce.

Beef and Townsend follow Stewart’s chauffeur and one of his maids to Europe, a trip that appears to be a waste of time and Peter’s money. The butler commits suicide. Was that a confession of guilt? Was the butler blackmailing Stewart? Beef attempts to question a bum who might be a witness by plying him with beer. Chalk that up to another Beef failure.

The evidence he accumulates is rather thin. However, nothing can dissuade Beef from the certainty that Stewart did not murder Dr. Benson. Beef fails to prove Stewart’s innocence in time to stop the jury from convicting him of murder. The next step for Stewart is the gallows.

It comes down to the wire, and while Beef is still adamant he knows who the murderer is, he has no proof that would prevent Stewart’s encounter with a noose. It’s sayonara, Stewart.

This shouldn’t be surprising in a book called Case with No Conclusion. Bruce hammers home repeatedly that Beef has no evidence to exonerate Stewart. Bruce even warns his readers before they crack open the book that there will be no conclusions.

While hanging is no laughing matter, Case with No Conclusion is downright hysterically funny.

Stewart might be a lost cause, but it is not wise to underestimate the intellectually stunted Beef. He might swill a lot of beer, and his detecting skills might be underwhelming, to say the least. But he knows what he’s doing. The ending is both unexpected and immensely satisfying.

The back cover explains that this was the seventh Sgt. Beef mystery, but it was the third one Bruce wrote. That explains why Townsend repeatedly refers to two only previous successful cases. It’s a literary gift to know that Bruce didn’t stop writing at number three. There are nine novels in the Sgt. Beef mystery series.

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Paula Messina ©2025

Paula Messina lives within spitting distance of the Atlantic. She writes historical, contemporary, and humorous fiction.