Mysteries

Paul Bishop, an LAPD veteran currently heading sex crime investigations, has written several novels enhanced by his working knowledge of the way this city’s police department operates. Recently, he has been concentrating on a series featuring Det. Fey Croaker, a street-savvy unit supervisor of the West L.A. Homicide Division who spends as much time battling department machinations as she does solving crimes.

In “Tequila Mockingbird” (Scribner, 400 pages, $22), Croaker’s third outing (after “Twice Dead” and “Kill Me Again”), a philandering detective is murdered, presumably by his irate pregnant wife, and Croaker is tapped by the chief of police to wrap up the investigation quickly--no muss, no fuss. But muss and fuss are what Croaker does best, and as the case blossoms into complexities involving multiple murder, terrorism and police corruption, she pushes her colorful, competent team of detectives to the breaking point and drives her superiors into apoplexy (and, in one case, beyond).

Bishop’s obvious long suit is the authority he brings to a police novel. His descriptions of crime scenes, autopsies, procedures and internal strife are peppered with acronyms and short, snappy samples of department history. These fine examples of down and dirty reportage serve to ground the (one hopes) highly fanciful plot involving a scheme to undermine and alter the law enforcement structure of this fair city.

The novel’s population is dense, but Bishop’s appealing good guys and appalling bad ones are all quirkily individual, and most readers probably will down “Tequila” in one gulp.

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Richard Stark’s granite-hard master thief Parker dropped out of sight 23 years ago, after the caper recounted in the novel “Butcher’s Moon.” There had been 16 expertly planned robberies in the Parker series, and not a one had gone off without a serious hitch, so it was understandable that he’d elected to retire. But, as we discover in “Comeback” (Mysterious Press, 304 pages, $18), Parker has been busily at work all this time. Apparently, the jobs were too successful (i.e., uneventful) to be worth recording.

Now, happily enough for Parker fans, the hitch is back. And because of it, our favorite anti-hero once again is forced to struggle through a milieu so amoral, against a villain so vicious, that even a sociopathic professional thief almost appears to be on the side of the angels.

“Comeback” begins with Parker in the midst of what should be an easy heist--the theft of bushels of cash harvested from the faithful by an egocentric evangelist. And indeed, the heist goes off smoothly--until one of Parker’s fellow yeggs decides to keep the loot for himself, paving the way for Stark to give us yet another example of how noir thrillers should be written: swift and lean, with surprises in every shadow.

At a time when mysteries are growing ever more corpulent, bloated by back-story filler and clogged with minute character detail, Stark (in reality the prolific Donald E. Westlake) smartly reminds us that a crime novel can be fat-free and satisfying.

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Lawrence Block likes to temper the often grim investigations of sleuth Matthew Scudder with the considerably more frivolous adventures of bibliophile cat burglar Bernie Rhodenbarr. His new sampling of the latter is positively the wittiest mystery of the year. “The Burglar in the Library” (Dutton, 320 pages, $22.95) follows the wisecracking thief on a quest for a mystery novel rara avis--a first edition of Raymond Chandler’s “The Big Sleep” inscribed by the author to fellow hard-boiled maven Dashiell Hammett.

Bernie, who steals to support his used-book store in Manhattan, has tracked the elusive volume to the library of a creaky old ersatz-British inn in the Berkshires. The place is described by Bernie’s pal and fellow traveler Carolyn as “straight out of Agatha Christie.” So are many of its occupants, and in typical Christie fashion, no sooner has a snowstorm separated them from the rest of civilization than a killer begins bumping them off, one by one.

Block, whose wonderful character names are an indication of his flair for fun and games (Lettice Runcible might have squeaked a chuckle from another master, S.J. Perelman), has outdone himself with this entertaining escapade. Not only does it out-Christie Christie with its setup and surprising denouement, but it adds a hilarious coda involving the Chandler inscription. If Block continues to top himself, Bernie may wind up having to steal one of his own priceless novels.

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Dick Lochte and Margo Kaufman take turns reviewing mystery books every four weeks. Next week: Mary Rourke on books about faith and spirituality.