Harry Starke is a high-end private eye working in Chattanooga. (No doubt Phil Wade has run into him). Son of a successful personal injury lawyer, he works out of a nice office and owns a beautiful home. He’s dating a woman police detective. As Harry Starke, the first book in this series begins, he watches a beautiful young woman flee a couple of tough guys in a seedy bar, tries to rescue her as she flees over a bridge on the Tennessee River, and watches helplessly as she plunges to her death.

In the tradition of fictional private eyes, he immediately vows to find out who’s responsible for her death. The girl turns out to be the daughter of a prominent surgeon, who immediately hires him to investigate. With the help of his highly competent staff (though he does the dangerous stuff alone, of course), and in cooperation with Kate, his police squeeze, he follows the clues to the offices of a local drug dealer, who appears suddenly more prosperous than he should be, and a corrupt local politician. With occasional stops to investigate a secret sex club.

Harry Starke kept me reading to the end, but I didn’t really like it a lot. It seemed superficial to me, assembled from shiny parts like a TV series pilot, with nothing behind the facades on the set. I especially thought Harry’s relationship with Kate, the cop, was implausible. Would any real-life police department allow a private operator whom a detective was dating to consult on a case and run around with her, chasing suspects?

The language, I should note, was fairly clean for this kind of novel. There were several sexual encounters, but they weren’t described explicitly. However, there was one sexual moment that was just creepy for this reader. It was that creepy moment, though not that moment alone, that decided me that I probably won’t be investing in any more Harry Starke books.