Harry Lipkin P.I. [Kindle Edition]

Across the spectrum of police/private eye investigators it is possible to see relationships, common characteristics. Alcoholism, an unhappy marriage/divorce, unsuitable partnerships, jealous rivals, bullying superiors. Most suffer from some of these in varying combinations.

Barry Fantoni's Harry Lipkin is different. The spare set of dentures in the drawer with his gun is a clue. He is eight-seven going on eighty-eight. His police career is in the long forgotten past. As is his brief marriage. Nowadays he sweeps up the crumbs left behind while the police chase the serious criminals. Oh, and Harry is Jewish. And very funny. Imagine Marlowe sixty years older, the wisecracks given a Yiddish flavour, and you begin to see Harry Lipkin.

In this first fictional appearance, Harry is hired by a wealthy woman in Miami to investigate a series of thefts. There are only five suspects. Harry struggles to identify the guilty party. To reveal more would be unfair.

This is a book that could be devoured in a day beside the pool and, once word gets around, it undoubtedly will be. If the sunbed next to yours is trembling with half-subdued mirth, the chances are Harry Lipkin is to blame.

This mystery novel has a hero with an unusual twist - at 87 years old he is "the world's oldest detective", living in Warmheart, Florida (surely not a real name for a town?!). He now has no living family, hardly any living friends and his memories and music are all still rooted firmly in the 1930's/1940's. Still, he is a working private eye, taking cases the police don't want and working from his home. Cases such as that of his most recent client, Mrs Weinberger, the elderly and wealthy widow of a famous hat maker, now retired to Florida. Someone in her house has been stealing from her and Harry has a list of suspects - a chauffeur, a butler, a maid, a chef and a gardener, who all have the motive of needing some extra money for various reasons.

The joy in this novel is not with the plot, so much as the humorous and charming character of Harry himself. Most of his information comes from acquaintances as old as he is and, what follows, is an entertaining and enjoyable story, with lots of humour and a well paced plot. I would certainly be interested to read more of Harry's adventures and, hopefully, judging by the end of this novel, there are more to come.

So there I was, Harry Lipkin PI, 87 years old and counting, enjoying a lemon tea and a bagel at Sol's Sunshine Bar when this English guy walks in and strikes up a conversation. Well, I had nothing better to do so I bent his ear for an hour or two about some cases that had come my way lately (oy- still they call! Never let anyone one tell you that money spent on advertising in the Yellow Pages isn't money well spent). Next thing I know I'm signing a disclaimer and a year later some book flops onto my doormat. Well, I took it out the back one afternoon and read through it in one sitting (apart from - you know, "visits"). Harry Lipnik - This is Your Life! It's all there, the false teeth, the slowness of body which can't quite keep up with the speed of the mind, and the whole damned business of being a gumshoe. All that driving around! I'd forgotten that until I saw it all written down. If I had any pull with the Fantoni guy (which obviously I don't) I might have pressed him to focus on a case other than the Case of Mrs. Weinberger's Missing Knick-Knacks, where I didn't, to be honest, shine one hundred per cent. But well, you've gotta start somewhere. At least I met some interesting people along the way, and to drive around a bit. Well, quite a lot, if I'm gonna be honest with you.

Anyway, a few days after the book arrived a check for two hundred and fifty dollars turned up. So as far as I'm concerned Fantoni can turn out reports of my adventures until the cows come home. And if they all have these drawings by this guy - what's his name? Andrew Aarons? Something like that? - punctuating what the educated might call "the narrative" then I'm happy to receive as many free copies and checks as are going. Now, you gotta excuse me - I have to put this copy on Mrs. Feldman next door's garden table (discreetly, of course). Once she sees I'm some big shot in a book she might stop her kvetching. Might.