The best mysteries served with a side of humor

An old friend gave me her much-thumbed copy of Evanovich’s One for the Money at a time when I was down.

I can’t tell you how much the book lifted me up—Stephanie Plum’s debut in the long-running series as a sharp, sometimes bumbling bounty hunter is laugh-out-loud funny. Her love interests only complicate matters: the dark, handsome, elusive Ranger, and Morelli, a cop on the run who Stephanie lost her virginity to when she was sixteen.

Of course, I raced through the numbers with Stephanie, right up into the books entitled twenty-something. Evanovich’s seemingly effortless writing style hooks the reader and reels in the laughs. Go, Steph!

No one does Florida-Funny like Carl Hiaasen.

A long-time columnist for the Miami Herald, Hiaasen has written theme-based novels about the foibles of Florida living—the politics, the sugar industry, the plastic surgery industry, the lottery. I imagine him banging out these novels with sardonic ire, seething at what has happened to his beloved Florida. But his rants are so funny readers need to stop from choking and hold onto to their hats.

I’ve read all of his books, and Tourist Season is one of my favorites, hooking me on page one with that mysterious limb found on the beach, page one. Then the race is on to find the culprit—and the rest of the poor devil who’s missing a leg. When asked where he gets his ideas, Hiaasen once said, “The police blotter…You can’t make this stuff up.”

The first sentence of Gone Wild: “Allison Farleigh felt the dull tingle of a leech on her neck.” And with that, we are off and running in the jungle.

Hall does not waste any time setting Allison up: in the first pages, her daughter is murdered and a python nearly crushes her to death. It’s dire. But then along come Rayon and Orlon, two bumbling amoral poachers. Hall’s injection of humor with these two characters is drop-dead funny and a welcome relief in this intriguing story.

Kudos to Hall for his research, and for exposing the horrific industry of selling exotics. And thank you, Mr. Hall, for giving us the extraordinary Allison Farleigh. We can only hope, as we read, that Rayon and Orlon have met their match.

Richard Osman’s touch with this intrepid group of septuagenarians who solve murders is outrageously hysterical, and insightful.

The Thursday Murder Club meets weekly at their assisted living complex, and their kick-off investigation is to look for the killer of a developer with suspicious plans for the surrounding property in the idyllic English countryside. Each of the four members of the club brings something to the table, mostly under the guidance of Elizabeth (a former spy) and Joyce (seemingly a bubblehead with iridescent smarts).

The guys bring their own baggage, wit, and forthright manners, and they all jump right off the page, mostly together. They are a tight, loyal group. Osman is a screenwriter, and his ability to deliver dialogue that is short and sharp goes directly to the funny bone.  

Nine Perfect Strangers, with an Agatha Christie twist, finds these characters holed up at an exclusive spa with a looney-tune leader, and they are more or less held captive while the truth unfolds.

I chose this book because Frances, the failing writer, struck such a note of humor, I almost fell out of my chair reading of her mental state and ambivalence toward a doofus she meets at the spa. While she laments her shortcomings, she is irresistibly drawn to this guy. (Do I empathize?)

Moriarty has a facile ability to draw distinct features in her characters and pull them along until they work themselves out. A favorite author of mine.