Lou Fleener, a private eye in 1950s Chicago, is the hero of Duane Lindsay’s comic novel, Missing Amanda. Lou is not prepossessing in appearance – short, dumpy, and balding. But he’s actually the next thing to a superhero. He’s almost impossible to beat in a fight. It’s something he was born with – lightning reflexes, an uncanny ability to anticipate his opponents’ moves, and a skill for turning any odd object at hand into a deadly weapon. He’s Jackie Chan before there was a Jackie Chan.

He also has ethics. So when he gets a visit from thugs representing Duke Braddock, one of the city’s gang bosses, who wants to hire him, he turns them down flat – then hurts them when they try to get tough.

Braddock responds by doing an end run on him. He goes to Lou’s best friend, Monk. Monk is tall and handsome, but socially inept. He’s also depressed, missing the daughter his ex-wife took away in their divorce. So he’s a sucker for Braddock’s sob story about how his little girl Amanda was kidnapped – certainly by one of his gangster rivals. He needs Monk to persuade Lou to find out who’s got her and rescue her.

And, by the way, he’ll kill Monk if Lou refuses.

So, against his best instincts, Lou starts poking around. Soon he’s got various mobsters mad at him, and he’s figured out that Braddock never had a daughter. It was all a scheme to start a gang war and get his rivals to kill one another off. Rubbing Lou and Monk out along the way will be just a detail.

Lou is angry. He knows how to fight, and Monk knows how to strategize. Together (along with a blonde they pick up along the way) they begin a big operation to bring everybody down.

They may not survive, but they’re gonna have a whole lot of fun.

My nutshell reaction to Missing Amanda was, “It would have been better as a movie.”

I can’t really complain about the story. It kept me reading, and it had many amusing moments. Also some heartwarming ones. But the plot maintained a level of implausibility that struck me as more suitable to the screen than the printed page. I was never able to quite suspend my disbelief.

Also, there were a couple hints of politics – not many, but enough to be annoying. And some anachronisms, especially in language and slang.

Still, I was reminded of Donald E. Westlake. A lot of people like Westlake more than I do. If you’re a Westlake fan, you might enjoy Missing Amanda very much.