The Templars make their next unnerving appearance (will they ever fade away?) in C.M. Palov’s The Templar’s Code. Characterizable as “Indiana Jones meets the DaVinci Code,” Palov’s thriller begins with a lecture by a noted archeologist who is intercepted afterward by a very frightened young man, who quickly establishes himself as a scholar in his own right, and claims to have discovered the location of symbols leading to a Templar treasure. Before he can fully articulate his claim, however, he is swiftly assassinated. The fact that he was targeted for assassination, naturally, lends credence to his story, and Caedmon Aisquith, accompanied by his paramour and assistant, Edie Miller, spring into action. While they are hot on the trail of the symbols and treasure, the assassin is carefully tracking them and positioning himself for the kill.

Since The Templar’s Code weighs in at a whopping 544 pages, you know that there are complications that continue to advance the plot and propel the chase. In addition to pulling off a clever plot in a satisfying narrative, Palov makes a significant contribution to the Dan Brown genre by focusing on the complex psychological profile of the assassin, thereby producing a fully developed character. Since this is not the central ambition of most thriller writers, who are driven by engaging plot structures, Palov offers us refreshing character insight. So, if you are in the mood for reading a Templar thriller, this one may well be the answer to your quest.

Long-time readers of this blog know that I love to find the little inside jokes that pop up in mystery fiction. Authors often will give a nod to another's work or pay homage to a writer or slip in a reference that astute readers can pick up.

But it's important that these little asides don't call attention to themselves or take away from the seriousness of the plot.

Such is the case with Steve Hamilton's latest novel Misery Bay.

In Misery Bay, Hamilton, left, brings back his reluctant private investigator Alex McKnight, who last appeared in 2006's A Stolen Season. Hamilton recently won the Edgar Award for best novel for his stand-alone novel The Lock Artist.

Without giving away any of Misery Bay's plot twists, Alex McKnight has a very serious conversation with two cops -- Reed Coleman and Jim Fusilli -- while conducting an investigation into a young man's suicide. The encounter lasts only a couple of pages and never once does it take away from the dark plot or even hint at a wink-wink at the reader.

Still, I couldn't help but smile just a little bit knowing who the cops Coleman and Fusilli were named after.

Reed Farrel Coleman has published 12 novels, including the Moe Prager series (Innocent Monster is the latest) and two novels under his pen name Tony Spinosa.

Coleman's awards include the Macavity, Barry and the Anthony. He has won the Shamus for best novel three times, and has been twice nominated for the Edgar Award. Coleman is the former executive vice president of Mystery Writers of America.

James "Jim" Fusilli, whose day job is the rock and pop critic for the Wall Street Journal, wrote four well-received novels about novice PI Terry Orr, the last one was Hard, Hard City in 2004.

Last year, Fusilli became the first writer to sell a book to Audible without the novel first appearing in print.

The result is the excellent Narrows Gate, a sweeping tale about the Italian-American community set in the early part of the 20th century in Hoboken, N.J., where Fusilli grew up.

In Narrows Gate, gangsters rule the streets but the plot includes a singer, soldiers, businessmen and two young friends trying to survive. Comparisons to Mario Puzo would not be out of line.

I'd say Alex McKnight was in good company.

Editor Michael Sims gathers 11 stories about female detectives in British and American fiction from W.S. Hayward’s pioneering Mrs. Paschal in 1864 to Anna Katharine Green’s Violet Strange in 1915. Green’s humorous spinster sleuth Amelia Butterworth also appears in an excerpt from the 1897 novel That Affair Next Door (1897).

Like some of the editor’s other anthologies, this one has considerable reference value, with an enjoyable and informative 15-page introduction and substantial story notes plus three pages of secondary bibliography, including useful websites. Other authors included are Andrew Forrester, C.L. Pirkis, Mary E. Wilkins (Freeman), George R. Sims, Grant Allen, M. McDonnell Bodkin, Richard Marsh, and Hugh C. Weir. In explaining his selections, Sims humorously says he excluded Fergus Hume’s Hagar Stanley and Arthur B. Reeve’s Constance Dunlap out of boredom, “an emotion that every anthologist must employ as doorkeeper.” He regrets not including Lady Molly, whom he mistakenly credits to L.T. Meade and Robert Eustace rather than Baroness Orczy, “because reprint rights proved outrageously expensive.” It’s surprising the stories aren’t in the public domain. While the editor is an admiring expert on the works of Anna Katharine Green, having edited and introduced Penguin’s edition of The Leavenworth Case, his description of the crime in that novel as a “locked-room murder” is inaccurate.

Count me among the many who were fans of Alias, the 2001-2006 series that starred Jennifer Garner as Sydney Bristow, an international spy recruited while in college.

What an intriguing  concept to have a young, bright woman worrying about saving the world – and passing her final exams.

It was a concept almost equal to the brilliant Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which used high school as a metaphor for horror.

Garner was certainly one of the main reasons why Alias was more than a one-note pony. Sure, Garner has movie-star looks but she also gave the impression that she really was the girl next door, down to earth, a loyal friend and whip smart.

But will she make a good sleuth? Especially one of mystery fiction’s most iconic sleuths.

Jennifer Garner has been tapped to play Miss Marple, the detective from Agatha Christie, in what is being called a “Disney reboot.”

Now you, I and everybody knows that Miss Marple is an elderly lady who watches over the goings on around her, especially in the small English village of St. Mary Mead. Miss Marple was played by Margaret Rutherford in four films during the 1960s, Angela Lansbury in the 1980 movie The Mirror Crack’d, and Joan Hickson in several BBC TV movies.

Of those, Hickson is considered by many to be the quintessential Miss Marple, whom Christie had said she based on her own grandmother.

Naturally, if a film ever is made with Garner as Miss Marple, we’ll see a younger and sexier sleuth. But is that in fitting with the character? Do we want to see Miss Marple’s earlier life? And the new Miss Marple won’t be living in a small English village but in an American city, according to several reports.

Often ideas for films just become that – ideas that never make it onto the screen.

What are your thoughts on this?  

It’s 1895, when amidst rumors of socialists and anarchists readying themselves to overthrow the British throne, Thomas Pitt, now working for England’s Special Branch, leaves for France in pursuit of a radical linked to the plot. He is unaware that Victor Narraway, his superior, is suspected of mishandling funds meant to pay an Irish informant. When the informant is murdered, Narraway is summarily removed from office, stranding Pitt in France and leaving his wife, Charlotte, on her own in London.

This sets up a serpentine plot that eventually sends Charlotte to Ireland with Narraway: he, to salvage his reputation and find the informant’s murderer; she, to save her beloved husband’s career. Before long, the two begin to suspect that Narraway’s downfall was caused by fallout from a case he’d once been involved in that brought about the deaths of an Irish couple tangentially connected to the IRA. When another murder occurs, Charlotte and Narraway find themselves without champions in a country that despises them for merely being English.

Perry writes smart books about smart people. She never condescends to her audience, expecting them to be as intelligent as her characters, and to have a good grasp of British history. Even though the action in her novels take place in the Victorian age, when women were supposed to have no real lives of their own, Charlotte’s ongoing rebellion is firmly grounded in the reality of that era’s social constraints. While women may have come a long way, baby, it’s Perry’s genius that she can show us how some attitudes have remained unchanged in 115 years.

Suffering from Spellman withdrawal? Until that dysfunctional detective family resurfaces in 2012, you may find some methadone-like relief in Lisa Lutz’s latest— a comic collaboration with poet/editor/ex-boyfriend David Hayward. This just might be the emergence of a new literary genre: the therapeutic thriller—couples counseling disguised as crime fiction. Or is it vice versa?

In the email exchange that precedes the first chapter, we learn that Lutz and Hayward shared not only a long-dissolved romantic history, but also a creative partnership that ended in “epic disaster.” Yet, Lutz, “a sucker for unfinished business,” lures her ex into a new project, and Hayward is game—“hopefully not in the hunting sense,” he adds. The duo then alternate writing duties, commenting on, and footnoting, each other’s efforts along the way. As the interpersonal missives increase in sarcasm and menace, the reader soon realizes exactly why these two didn’t make it (Thanksgiving food-poisoning and near-death road trip aside)—and fear for their characters’ fates as well.

Oh, yes—about the other plot. Lutz kicks it off by introducing us to Paul and Lacey Hansen, orphaned twentysomething siblings in rural northern California who discover a headless corpse on their homestead. Since that homestead is also their marijuana farm, they think it best to remove the body to a less incriminating spot.

But then, like so much unfinished business, the corpse returns to the scene of the crime, in an even less appealing state than before. As Heads You Lose is the first of Lutz’s novels to actually have a dead body, it’s nice that it gets so much action.

By the final chapter, the once-sleepy town is littered with victims—chosen, more or less, by how annoying that character is to each co-author. When Hayward trots out (or rather, limps out) Paul’s girlfriend, Brandy Chester (a brainy stripper disabled by a pole-dancing accident), it doesn’t take a PI to deduce that she’ll soon be in Lutz’s crosshairs.

Though Lutz and Hayward’s relationship may never have true closure, Heads You Lose wraps up the wacky with a satisfying whoo-hoo! This could be the start of a beautiful fictional friendship—if the plotting pair don’t try to whack each other first.

In this debut novel set in the mid ’60s, a family of five moves from Detroit to an old house on the outskirts of a small Kansas town where Arthur Scott, the father of the family, grew up. The Scotts have a hard time adjusting to the isolation and the small-mindedness of the residents. Young Daniel has trouble making friends at school and his little sister Eve-ee retreats into a fantasy world, where she talks to her long-vanished aunt Eve and dresses in the clothes her aunt left behind when she died young. Eve-ee’s living Aunt Ruth has problems of her own. Her brutal husband is growing increasingly violent, yet when she leaves him to protect their unborn child, she is condemned by townsfolk for abandoning her marriage. When a child disappears from the town, rumors begin to fly about Ruth’s husband, who has been suspected for years of murdering Eve, Arthur and Ruth’s sister. Roy uses spare and elegant language to depict the increasing tension as the isolated family tries to protect Ruth from the hostility of the town, from her angry husband, and from the lengthening shadow of the secrets surrounding Eve’s death.

Readers may be reminded of Nancy Pickard’s novels set in small-town Kansas, where families keep secrets, but where the past cannot stay buried. Roy’s writing style is different in tone, though: cooler and more critical of rural society and its tendency to enforce a rigid moral code. Bent Road provides readers with an unsettling example of American Gothic.

One of the fascinating things about Harlan Coben’s thrillers is that although his plots never fail to exhilarate, he could remove entire story lines and still deliver engrossing books; his characters are that fascinating. In this outing for sports and entertainment agent Myron Bolitar, Suzze Trevantino, a former tennis great—and a former addict—is pregnant with her rocker husband’s baby. Someone has been spreading rumors that the baby isn’t his, and it’s damaging their relationship. When good guy Myron sets out to find the truth, he uncovers a snake’s nest built of sex, lies, and rock and roll.

Adding texture to the serpentine plot are Myron’s colorful friends and business associates. Ex-wrestler Esperanza is a bi-sexual beauty queen once called Little Pocahontas; Big Cyndi, the former Big Chief Mama, has a weakness for Batman costumes; super-rich Win is a schizoid blend of Captain America and torture-killer. All join forces to help Myron stay alive and kicking when he’s set upon by various and sundry thugs. That’s enough for a great read right there, but Coben has always found family dynamics intriguing, and here he leavens the craziness with a somber side plot involving Bolitar’s own disappeared brother Brad. The two have been estranged for years, partially because of Kitty, Brad’s deeply troubled wife, but now it appears that a reunion just might be possible.

Readers who have had the misfortune to have an addict in the family will understand the heartache underlying the humor in this book, and the lucky few who don’t will learn how the power of addiction can afflict even non-addicts.

Deadly Currents is the promising debut novel in Beth Groundwater’s new series entitled Rocky Mountain Outdoors Adventures Mysteries. Mandy Tanner, former river guide, is now a newly minted river ranger charged with keeping the Arkansas River and its visitors safe. It’s Mandy’s second week on patrol when she is stationed just below dangerous rapids watching out for rafters who might need help. Suddenly she sees Gonzo, an experienced guide employed by her Uncle Bill’s rafting business, in trouble with a full load of inexperienced passengers. The boat flips and Mandy rescues two from the murky waters, but one, Tom King, dies in her arms.

Unexpectedly, the rafter’s autopsy discloses that he was poisoned. Mandy’s relief from her own guilt over King’s death is short-lived though, when her beloved uncle dies—a victim of the stress of a potential lawsuit and the loss of business from the accident. As Mandy digs into King’s murder, she discovers that he was a land developer with a long list of people who may have wanted him dead: a betrayed wife, a scorned girlfriend, a disowned son, business rivals, and local environmentalists who opposed his development plans.

Author Groundwater taps the timely issue of environmentalists versus developers, which has become a common theme in many mysteries set in the increasingly not-so-Wild West, but also offers an intimate look at whitewater rafting and introduces readers to the small town of Salida, Colorado. This town owes its livelihood to the mighty Arkansas River and all the activities that go with thrilling water adventures.

Supporting Mandy are her best friend, Cynthia (always good for a new supply of dumb-blonde jokes); Detective Quintana, the local law enforcement representative; and new romantic interest and fellow “River Rat” Rob Juarez. The amiable cast, along with Groundwater’s fascinating firsthand knowledge of rafting, makes this a series worth watching.

One thing is certain about Vanessa Michael Munroe, the heroine of Taylor Stevens’ first novel: she is badass. She is also a corporate spy who works solo and for herself; she breaks laws, enjoys fighting with muggers, has a body laced with scars but is still irresistible to men, is fluent in any language or dialect of Europe or Africa, holds several forged passports, and loves to ride a sleek, black motorcycle. That’s badass.

The Informationist begins when Munroe is lured out of Turkey back to America after a 10-year absence with a $5 million offer to find Texas oil baron Richard Burbank’s daughter, who has been missing in East Africa for four years. Emily Burbank’s father has spent millions on several organizations that have failed to find her and takes an expensive chance on Munroe’s one-woman establishment. The only hitch is that Munroe must take along one of Burbank’s employees, a security professional named Miles Bradford.

The plot, action, and characterization are quite simple as the two leads bump egos, bickering even while in mid-chase with Angolan assassins on their tail. But what matters here is the fun of the journey. This story travels where few American novels go, and the author is as comfortable describing the cities, villages, and political climates of Equatorial Guinea and Cameroon as she is describing downtown Dallas.