Yet another oddball team-up attempting to cash in on that ol' Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin magic, albeit with a clerical bent. And this one's a bit more strained than most.
DAVEY GOLDMAN is a Jewish New York City private detective, a decent enough guy, an ex-cop, with a fondness for baseball and his own wit.
Like I said, a nice enough guy but he'll never set the world on fire. It's a good thing, then, that he can depend on Bishop Francis X. Regan for smarts. Regan's a cantankerous, moody intellectual with an IQ around 220, wheelchair-bound since an assassination attempt, who lives in a (wait for it!) brownstone on West 37th Street. Davey's been hired on as the Bishop's special personal assistant and secretary, and while Davey does maintain a separate address for his detective agency, the majority of his time is spent working for the Bishop, who sees himself as a great detective and insists on getting involved in his investigations.
Unfortunately, William F. Love is not Rex Stout, and the hoped for fireworks never quite ignite. Still, this is an interesting spin on an old formula, and entertaining enough. Love, like the late William Kienzle, is a laicized Catholic priest. If you like Stout, these are clever, well-written re-workings of the Wolfe/Goodwin paradigm.
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