Review: The New Detective, by Peter Steiner
Severn, 2023. 181 pp. $32

Munich in 1913 is a corrupt place, much in need of the policing it never seems to get, for no cop in his right mind will offend the men in power. Nineteen-year-old Willi Geismeier doesn’t see law enforcement that way, however, and when he pursues a case, he doesn’t care where or to whom the evidence leads.

You’re young, his superiors tell him. You’ll learn or you’ll pay for it. And when they warn him that he’s just a beat cop and has no business playing detective, he takes the test to qualify for that position and passes. Naturally.

But the Great War intervenes, which he barely survives with eyesight, health, and faculties intact. And when he recovers, finally, he rejoins the police force—only now, postwar Munich has to contend with rightist groups and their wacko theories about race and “Germanness.”

In that climate, and with the flu pandemic increasing tensions and causing hysteria, bizarre crimes happen. One of them apparently involves widespread theft and resale of hospital drugs and equipment. Maybe unethical medical experiments are taking place too, though nobody will believe that; the doctors have sterling reputations and the politicians in their pockets. Nevertheless, Willi grasps this complex, risky case with both hands.

The New Detective, the third Willi Geismeier mystery/thriller in the series that began with The Good Cop, functions partly as a prequel, covering his war service, recovery from his wounds, and other experiences that shaped him. But much here is similar to the first installment.

Willi’s love for Shakespeare, which he finds the key to the human soul, remains constant. So does his insistence on following his instinct rather than instructions, which continues to anger his superiors (and the suspects he’s pursuing). This narrative, like the prior one, plays out in a wide time frame that circumstances do nothing to shorten, and “no—and furthermore” receives a less important role. That’s not your typical thriller.

It’s not that Willi faces no obstacles; he does. It’s that he doesn’t let them penetrate his consciousness; the “what do I do now?” musings common to fictional investigators have no place here. But more on that in a moment.

Meanwhile, one key element remains the same across both books and provides the reason to read The New Detective: the historical atmosphere. The wartime sequences, though short, are exceptionally vivid and authentic. But Steiner also knows Munich, period, and from the start, the narrative renders the city close up, as with this description of Willi’s first beat, in 1913:

The apartment blocks had been put up in a hurry in the late 1890s. Thanks to corruption in the building trades, they were already crumbling and should have been condemned. Few trees or shrubs could grow in the dark, narrow courtyards. The gas lights should have been on around the clock, but most of them had been destroyed. Drugs were sold and used freely in the courtyards. Prostitutes entertained their customers in hallways and abandoned rooms. Residents mostly cowered in their apartments.

The political environment is absolutely frightening, as desperate circumstances meet ambition, and those willing to break rules (or heads) will triumph. As with the first book, this one has an obvious political message, which is that the ultranationalists of 1919 and 1920 Munich are the direct ancestors of today’s white supremacists. Racism, fears of decline, anti-Semitism, rants about the “inferior” classes or races, belief in social Darwinism—they’re all here.

To no surprise, as with its predecessor, the novel sometimes feels heavy-handed. Certain scenes also take place without our hero witnessing them, which allows the villains to strut their stuff in complete confidence that no one will see their evil. That’s a didactic device, at best. But after a while, that nobody—or practically nobody—objects to what the villains say or do has a chilling effect.

Willi, as hardheaded as they come, has a bulldog’s monomania. I find him both appealing and off-putting; his colleagues seem to agree. As I suggested before, the way in which he shrugs at obstacles, refusing to take them seriously, says, “I’m not fazed. Tell me the bad news.” And you know he’ll get around the difficulties, no matter how long it takes.

Whether you believe what happens or not—Willi does seem to have extraordinary luck—how he goes about his craft makes a good story. And the dialog is terrific, sharp and to the point.

The New Detective isn’t for everybody. But I liked it anyway.

Disclaimer: I obtained my reading copy of this book from the public library.