On the first page in paragraph 2 the author describes Jack this way:

"Bloody Monday mornings. And something wrong inside me somewhere. Stomach? Chest? God knows. Probably just how old I am. Fifty-two years of age. Too clapped out for much of this caper."

This staccato form of nouveau stream of consciousness writing may appeal to some, but not to me. I was continually annoyed with the author’s frequent use of one or two word sentences. I assume that this writing style is meant to be gritty, but it frequently came off as chopped and clumsy.

From the beginning Jack is scheming to add to the can of hidden money in his garden. His wife wants to retire to Ko Samui, a lush island paradise, but he prefers a cottage in Devon. The problem is that either choice is beyond his means. However, opportunities to supplement his earnings are numerous and tediously recounted.

The first defendant he shakes down is a purveyor of porn, and Jack takes the proceeds (a thousand pounds) and bets it on a long shot at a horse race. The horse comes in at 7-1 odds. I guess this was put in the book to demonstrate that ill-gotten gains are meant to 'go forth and multiply.'

His real opportunity comes when Arthur Symes has his home burglarized. Jack is assigned to the case and immediately recognizes the m.o. of Jinkie Morrison, a habitual offender. Symes has exaggerated his losses, so Jack has to agree to a lesser amount as his payoff. Unfortunately for him, his aide finds some of the memorabilia stolen in the Jinkie's attic, so Jack ends up having to arrest Jinkie and forego his profit.

Two weeks later, when Symes himself is arrested for fraud, Jack feels a certain amount of smug satisfaction. He is then contacted by a so-called informant who wants to share details about the Symes' 'break-in. Curiosity urges him to the meeting and he discovers his informant is really the mistress of powerful, important businessman Emslie Warnaby.

To make a tedious story short, Emslie offers to exchange a deed of ownership to a five star motel in Ko Samui for one small slender file that is contained within the police investigation of Symes. Jack of course accepts the challenge, however the file is not that easily obtained and the rest of the book is devoted to watching him fall deeper and deeper into crime.

Reading should be a pleasure. Or if not pleasurable, perhaps educational. Or, if not educational, perhaps one may at least find some literary merit. I could find none of these. In The Bad Detective, the characters are contemptible, the setting is barely described, the story is unpleasant, and the interaction between characters is monotonous. To enjoy this book, the reader would have to have a particularly well-developed taste for gritty stories populated with low-life scum.

--Thea Davis