A mystery set in a Norwegian-American community in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was bound to get my attention, so I took advantage of a free download of Past Imperfect by Kathleen Hills. The book wasn’t bad, but I can’t describe it as compelling reading.

The year is 1950, and John McIntire, a native of the lakeshore town of St. Adele, has returned at last after five post-war years in England, during which he did something unspecified for the US government and married an English woman. His neighbors have elected him constable, noting that he seems to have little else to do with his time. Nobody expects him to have to investigate a murder. But his childhood friend Nels Bertelson is found dead on his fishing boat, killed by a bee sting, to which he was allergic. But why is his syringe of antivenin missing? And why are bees found in his clothing, as if planted there? John has hardly begun asking questions before a local teenage girl is found strangled, though her body disappears before the police can get to the spot. What’s it all about? Who could benefit from these deaths?

The mystery plot of Past Imperfect was all right, but the storytelling only so-so, in my opinion. Author Hills seems to have the same problem I’ve noted in many female authors – her male characters don’t come to life. Even the ones supposed to be energetic come off as remarkably passive. And everybody talks on and on, and when they’re not talking they’re paddling the stream of consciousness. Relationships are subjected to detailed forensic analysis. Past Imperfect moves much more slowly than it needs to.

Not generally objectionable, and not a waste of your reading time, I still can’t recommend Past Imperfect very highly.

There are elements in Max Allan Collins’ Mallory mystery novels which could easily have turned me against them. But Collins’ skill in handling sensitive issues is of so high a quality that he turns them into strengths. I thought this admirable element was especially on view in The Baby Blue Rip-Off, originally published in 1983 (which I’m constantly surprised to realize is a long time ago).

Mallory (his first name is never divulged) is a former soldier, former cop, and present mystery writer who has moved back to his home town of Port City, Iowa. When the story begins he’s been talked into doing a little volunteer work, delivering hot meals to elderly people. To his surprise he enjoys it, and becomes very fond of several old ladies on his route.

But on this night he finds a van backed up to one of the meal recipients’ houses. The place has been trashed and several men are carrying valuables out. Mallory gets seriously beaten, but his elderly friend is dead.

Sheriff Brennan warns Mallory not to try investigating on his own, but he does it kind of half-heartedly, having resigned himself to Mallory’s curiosity and his personal stake in the case. As he runs down clues, Mallory gets beaten up again, re-kindles an old romance, and confronts profound questions of love, trust, and betrayal.

What particularly pleased me – and this is fairly surprising in a book whose narrator unabashedly declares himself a Democrat – is how deftly author Collins handles the politics. This especially applies to Mallory’s relationship with Sheriff Brennan. The sheriff’s son went off to Vietnam with Mallory years ago, but only Mallory came back. Then Mallory got involved with Veterans Against the War, which Brennan saw as a kind of betrayal. But in this story the two men warily reach out to one another and form a bond.

This is a masterly example of a technique many authors (perhaps even me) can’t seem to get. A failure in this department completely spoiled fellow Iowa author Ed Gorman’s Sam McCain mysteries for me. Gorman couldn’t concede that a Republican could be anything other than an idiot or a scoundrel. Collins, to the contrary, first of all includes a liberal character who is a jerk (which obviously doesn’t mean all liberals are jerks, as Mallory’s a liberal himself), and a conservative character (Sheriff Brennan) who’s a decent human being.

That’s all it takes. You don’t have to pander to the other side. Just grant them a little humanity, and admit there can be faults on your own side. It was enough to charm me completely, and enable me to get behind Mallory with enthusiasm.

Mild cautions for adult material, including Mallory committing adultery with a married woman. Otherwise highly recommended.