The best books about sleuths who have enough problems without a mystery to solve

I have always loved literary thriller queen Daphne Du Maurier's complex and resilient characters, and Mary Yellan is no exception. Everything’s looking pretty miserable for her after her mother’s death forces her to give up the family farm and her hometown to live in a creepy inn with her miserable aunt and aggressive drunk of an uncle.

So I really enjoy how brave and resourceful she is in getting past violence, danger, miserable living conditions, a desolate setting, and bad taste in men to find out whether something more sinister than smuggling is going on at the empty inn.   

Something that really drew me into this book is how slippery the sense of danger is: Is journalist Scott McGrath only risking further legal trouble with Stanislas Cordova if he continues to research the suicide of the mysterious director’s daughter, or is he up against something far more evil?

After his last encounter with Cordova destroyed his career, reputation, and marriage, Scott McGrath should be worrying about other things… but he can’t help himself. I was also intrigued by his shifting motivations: Is he driven by a need to know the truth, seeking revenge, fascinated by the story, or trying to protect himself and his loved ones?

Many scenes felt like optical illusions where I could see entirely different truths depending on what perspective I looked at them from.

This is another book that kept me guessing all the way through–not only about the whodunnit but also about what kind of book it even is.

I loved Vesta Gul, an older widow who just moved into a rural community, as the unlikely sleuth. You’d think she had enough problems living in the middle of nowhere with no support network other than her dog, but after she finds a mysterious note in the woods, she’s determined to solve the murder mystery on her own, even before she finds a body.

I enjoyed watching her find a destructive new sense of purpose as she stopped at nothing to complete the case.

I love the contrast between Libby Day as the innocent, young sole survivor of an apparent satanic massacre and as a broken adult with a messy life and few moral qualms. Having experienced severe trauma and lost her family at a young age, Libby has enough to do getting through daily life and making ends meet after various schemes, like a self-help book milking her trauma, fail to pan out.

I love how, after spending her whole life not wanting to talk about the murders and being annoyed with true crime fans and their theories about what "really" happened, she takes a gig with these very fans to reopen the case decades later, and find out truths she may not even want to know.

The complicated and wonderful characters in Mia’s family really drew me in. They all have enough to deal with: the pandemic; Mia’s first breakup; her complicated relationship with her twin, who seems to do everything right; their brother Eugene’s disabilities, which mean he’s often discriminated against or underestimated; and their parents’ struggles to keep it all together and move on from heartbreaking false hopes.

When her father disappears, Mia doesn’t let her other problems or even the fear and heartbreak get in the way of her determination to find out the truth–no matter how painful–and protect Eugene from unjust suspicion.

I loved the role the complex bonds between the various family members came to play in unraveling this case and coping with its ramifications.