There are a couple of very good reasons that David Rosenfelt has now produced 33 extraordinarily successful Andy Carpenter mysteries, including the latest entry, DEAD MEN DON’T PLAY FETCH.

First of all, the plots of these novels are always tightly constructed so that the solutions to each mystery are perfectly sensible, especially upon review. We can almost always find foreshadowing and clues that point us in the right direction. Yet we rarely are able put them together the way that Andy and his team do. That's why Andy is a famous defense attorney, and it's also why we never tire of reading Rosenfelt's books. We love guessing the outcome, the identity of the murderer, and the results of the trials of Andy's clients, but we usually are not successful in our sleuthing efforts.

I urge both Andy's fans and newcomers to read DEAD MEN DON’T PLAY FETCH as a matter of personal pride. For the first time in 33 tries, I correctly predicted the killer’s identity. However, this does not exactly make me an all-star in the Sleuthing Major Leagues. One out of 33 is a sleuthing batting average of .030. So I am to sleuthing what Bob Uecker was to Major League Baseball.* But Uecker's career batting average was a hefty .200. So my detective efforts make Uecker look like Babe Ruth. (Andy would appreciate this comparison as he's a huge sports fan.) Rosenfelt has fooled me over and over again because his talent for devising case-breaking solutions is extraordinary.

"The nerve-wracking suspense builds to a terrifically effective climax followed by a surprising denouement that only a supremely talented mystery author can provide.... I urge you...to attempt some guesses about the novel's conclusions. I promise you'll have some real fun doing so."

The second reason for the popularity of this series is, of course, the dazzling sense of humor that permeates each novel. We could read a hundred of these books and never feel that we've had too much of Andy's self-deprecating comments, the insult humor that characterizes his relationships with all the other characters (both friend and foe), and the first-person narrative and dialogue that always produce smiles and laughter. 

To make sure that I am not exaggerating the humor quotient that I experience in this series, I applied my official test of literary humor to this latest installment. I scanned the book and paused at 25 random pages to see which ones generated a broad smile, a laugh-out-loud moment or both. The final score was a perfect 25 out of 25. And I'm sure all of Andy's many fans would emerge with the same score, a batting average of .1000 --- reminiscent of the accomplishments of the Babe and even Shohei Ohtani, if I may be so bold on Rosenfelt's behalf.

Now to the plot. The beginning features the murder that will be at the center of the entire novel. The victim is Paul Vincent, who was a multibillionaire. The accused is Jason Maddox, a recovering drug addict who's been living at an addiction rehab center where the back door faces the alley in which the crime has taken place. It's a gruesome and gory scene. Vincent was stabbed with an eight-inch-long blade that went through his back and heart and out his chest. Blood is all over the place. 

Jason hears the noise back there and runs down into the alley, sees the body, pulls out the knife, and realizes that his unlikely friend is dead. Soon the police arrive and find Jason near the body, holding the weapon, standing there with blood all over himself. They eventually find his fingerprints on the knife. To make matters worse, they discover Vincent's wallet in a pocket of Jason's jacket, which is in a closet in the rehab building. To them, Jason is so obviously the culprit that they never even consider the possibility that he may be innocent, and they don’t investigate any further.

Andy is talked into being Jason's defense attorney, although he dreads taking the case as he’d much rather be at home watching sports on TV. Nevertheless, he gets his whole crazy but magnificent team together. His wife, Laurie, an ex-cop, is the head investigator. Corey, also an ex-cop, and his ex-police dog, Simon Garfunkel, are another investigating team. Sam, Andy's accountant and expert computer hacker, will do exactly that job. Marcus, also recognized as Superman (although he is not vulnerable to kryptonite), is the investigator and, even more importantly, Andy's bodyguard. Edna sports the title “Secretary,” though she's actually avoider-of-work-in-chief. When Andy tries to assign a job to her, “emergency dental work” always seems to keep her away from the office.

Then we encounter all of Andy's suspects: two or more infamous gang leaders and hitmen (there are, after all, several million dollars at stake from Vincent's will), some of Jason's acquaintances and close friends, spouses of other important male characters, Vincent's wife, and Vincent's partner in their shaky but potentially profitable company.

The whole scene presents a huge set of roadblocks to Andy's case in court. The best defense, of course, would be proof that a person other than Jason is the murderer. But, all those suspects notwithstanding, he cannot prove definitively that one of them is the killer. So he must rely on his creativity and brilliance to convince the jury that there is reasonable doubt regarding Jason's guilt.

The nerve-wracking suspense builds to a terrifically effective climax followed by a surprising denouement that only a supremely talented mystery author can provide. I cannot guarantee that every reader will appreciate Rosenfelt’s gifts as much as I do. But my crystal ball tells me that many will find DEAD MEN DON’T PLAY FETCH to be a perfect demonstration of a unique literary talent. And my crystal ball is a much more accurate predictor than my detective skills when I try to figure out the identity of the actual killer. So I urge you, dear reader, to attempt some guesses about the novel's conclusions. I promise you'll have some real fun doing so.

* For all you non-baseball fans: Bob Uecker (RIP) was a Major League Baseball player whose sad yet almost laughable lack of hitting ability was virtually universally recognized among baseball fans. But after his brief baseball career ended, he used his deadpan self-deprecating comedy skills (just like those of Andy Carpenter and David Rosenfelt) to become a famous comedian, TV star, film actor and announcer for the Milwaukee Brewers for many years. He called himself Mr. Baseball, and he eventually was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in honor of his huge talent for making the sport fun.