It’s 1993, and Addison James, The Man In the White Linen Suit, is the most popular novelist in the world (think James Michener), an industry in his own right. A wounded veteran of OSS operations in World War II, he is a foul-tempered, cruel-hearted octogenarian, married to a sexy, manipulative gold digger young enough to be his granddaughter. He treats his lumpish adult daughter with contempt; she in turn is the most hated and unscrupulous editor in New York. His memory is failing, so he employs an assistant, Tommy O’Brien, to do his research and most of the writing. Without credit or a percentage, of course.

But Tommy has disappeared, and with him the only copies of Addison’s latest manuscript. The publishing company asks Stewart Hoag, celebrity ghost writer, to find them, because Tommy is an old friend of Hoagy’s. Hoagy doesn’t believe for a minute their theory that Tommy is holding the manuscripts for ransom. Which is justified when Tommy shows up at his apartment, soaked with rain and terrified. The manuscripts were stolen from him, he explains, and the guys who stole it threatened his life. Hoagy gives him shelter, and gets to work trying to find out where the documents really are – but there will be bodies hitting the ground before the whole thing is unraveled.

What I liked about The Man in the White Linen Suit was that one of author David Handler’s great strengths is on prominent display. The characters are complex. There are some very nasty people in this story, but they’re three-dimensional. They have moments when you actually sympathize with them. I was entirely fooled by the solution too, so high points for the mystery.

Recommended. Minor cautions for the usual grownup stuff. One political comment, but that’s not too bad in today’s climate.