The Bookseller by Tim Sullivan

First published in Great Britain in 2025; published by Atlantic Crime on June 2, 2026

Like most writers of a genre series, Tim Sullivan follows a formula for George Cross novels. Readers have little reason to complain when the formula works, at least until it grows stale. Sullivan’s method produces intelligent plots and his original characters add to the pleasure. There’s no reason for him to change his recipe.

The formula is satisfying. Cross investigates a murder. He interviews multiple witnesses, some of whom might have a motive to commit the murder. A superior urges him to charge the most likely suspect. Cross resists because he wants charges to be followed by convictions and isn’t confident that he’s arrested the true killer until he has tracked down all the evidence and eliminated every possibility of innocence. A new suspect emerges but just when the reader thinks the mystery is solved, Cross fits the last puzzle piece into position, the suspect is exonerated, and the killer’s identity is revealed. What more can a mystery reader ask?

It will come as no surprise that the murder victim in The Bookseller is a bookseller. Torquil Squire is ninety years old and has spent most of his life buying and selling rare books. His son Ed worked in his Bristol shop. On the night of his death, Ed stayed in the shop after closing because he expected his father to return from an auction in London. Torquil was delayed a bit and when he returned, he found that his son had been stabbed to death.

Victoria Squire is the victim’s wife. Her niece, Persephone, is the daughter of her brother, Ian Hartwell, and his ex-wife Sarah. Sarah had a physical altercation with Ed about a decade earlier. Persephone works at the bookstore, together with Sam Taylor. Persephone was in the building when the murder occurred and is hiding in a bathroom when the police arrive. Sam resents Persephone’s attempt to shift the store’s focus from rare used books to new bestsellers. Naturally, all these characters are all suspects.

Like many readers, I love books about books. Sullivan opens an insightful window into England’s rare book market. Cross learns that rare book dealers have attempted to corner the market on books by a particular author. If one dealer acquires all first editions of an author’s books, the absence of competition allows him to drive up the price. Ed made an enemy of a London bookseller named Patrick Gibb after accusing him of cornering the market on Evelyn Waugh. That makes Gibb a suspect.

Torquil made an enemy of his former partner, Denholm Simpson, when he took half their stock and opened a store of his own in a building that he acquired from a customer. Denholm had a son named Nigel who used to be Ed’s best friend. Nigel recently brokered the sale to Ed of a letter authored by Christopher Columbus. Ed purchased it from an Italian and sold it to a wealthy Russian collector at a healthy profit. The letter turned out to be stolen, costing the Russian oligarch a couple million dollars when the library that owned it leaned of the sale and demanded its return. The Russian is on the suspect list because his goons threatened Ed’s life.

Subplots involving secondary characters have been developing throughout the series. Cross’ mother has been back in his life, an event to which — thanks to his autism — Cross has not easily adjusted. His father’s health has taken a bad turn, which has Cross contemplating retirement to take on the role of caregiver. Cross’ partner, DS Josie Ottey, has been promoted to DI, technically making her Cross’ superior — another event that doesn’t thrill Cross, although he sticks to protocol and calls her ma’am, much to Josie’s annoyance. Alice Mackenzie, a former staffer, is now pursuing police training. Series fans are likely to view these subplots as enjoyable encounters with old friends.

Cross is increasingly endearing. He has developed effective coping mechanisms for his autism, but his relentless honesty and failure to recognize when honesty will be perceived as rude is a dependable source of comic relief. At the same time, he makes serious efforts to understand the important people in his life by using logic and close observation as a substitute for his inability to express his emotions. Sullivan makes me believe characters when they say that Cross is both maddening and loveable.

As always, I changed my mind about the killer’s identity two or three times — maybe four, possibly five. Admittedly, I usually change my mind after Cross explains why my favored suspect couldn’t be the murderer. Cross is a cleverer detective than I am, but the series would be boring if that weren’t true. The large collection of suspects makes it challenging to identify the killer, but the answer is always plausible and Sullivan always gives the reader a sporting chance to guess the mystery’s solution. I have yet to be disappointed by this series and now rate the Cross novels as a “must read” for fans of classic mysteries.

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The Cyclist by Tim Sullivan

First published in Great Britain in 2020; published by Grove Atlantic on January 13, 2026

It isn’t easy being George Cross. It’s easy enough for him to perform his investigative duties as a Detective Sergeant — in fact, he excels at them — but interacting with other people requires supreme mental effort. Cross is on the spectrum. He doesn’t make small talk and is distracted from his thoughts when others do. He is often perceived as rude because he doesn’t recognize and respond to social cues. He doesn’t want “to have to deal with social interactions and be on his best behaviour” because it takes too much energy.

Yet the same condition that impairs his ability to socialize contributes to his intense focus, his ability to organize and compartmentalize, and his obsession with detail. The same skill he brings to jigsaw puzzles — recognizing patterns — helps him identify clues to murders. When people depart from their patterns, they must have a reason. If their departures coincide with a crime, Cross looks for a connection.

Tim Sullivan is far from the only author who has used autistic behaviors to create intriguing characters, but George Cross is one of the best in crime fiction. It would be easy to exploit Cross's social ineptness for laughs. While Sullivan gives his readers the opportunity to laugh, he does so with sensitivity. He looks at Cross through the eyes of his colleagues, helping the reader understand Cross’ autism from different perspectives.

Cross is exasperating to others (he would be a handful to work with) but he’s tolerated because of his success as a detective. His current partner, DS Josie Ottey, is sticking around because she’s starting to understand Cross. By being patient, she’s also helping him recognize social cues and respond appropriately — a task that Cross sometimes and only grudgingly appreciates.

For the sake of maintaining a cordial work environment, most people go out of their way to avoid offending co-workers. They tell white lies. They might say, “Oh, she just stepped out for coffee” instead of “She’s avoiding you because you criticized her.” Cross will have none of that. He doesn’t care if he offends others and his feathers aren’t ruffled when other workers share unpleasant observations. In his words: “If only more people just told the truth instead of hiding behind badly concocted, feeble excuses. Everything would be so much more straightforward.”

Cross’ gruff personality is the hook that sets this series apart from others. Cross has no tact because he doesn’t understand the need for it. In his view, tact is a barrier to honesty. Others might see him as rude and blunt; he sees himself as getting to the point with maximum efficiency. While he isn’t endearing to others, the window that Sullivan opens to Cross’ life makes it possible to sympathize with his struggle to interact socially. And even if Cross is socially awkward, it is easy to understand some of his peeves, including his disdain for social media (“I don’t know how people find the time, and why on earth do they think their lives are of such interest to other people?”).

As the title suggests, this installment's murder victim is a cyclist. George rides a bicycle to work and follows the sport of competitive cycling. He instantly recognizes the corpse on an autopsy table as a cyclist, given his low body fat, muscular thighs, and distinct tan lines just above the knee. The murder victim — found in a garage that is scheduled to be demolished — turns out to be Alexander Paphides. Alex worked in his family’s Greek restaurant, but he was an avid cyclist who, when last seen by his family, was planning to depart for a competition with the other members of his amateur cycling club.

George’s investigation follows clues related to performance-enhancing drugs, as well as a pharmacist and fellow cyclist who denies knowledge of Alex’s doping. But could the murder have been related to Alex’s sixteen-year-old girlfriend? Alex was 32 but his relationship with Debbie was more than platonic. Alex was at odds with his brother and father about the future of the family business, while Debbie seems fearful of Alex’s mother.

Ongoing issues in Cross’ life all focus on relationships, particularly with his father, his co-workers, and a local priest. Cross dutifully has dinner once a week with his father but is disturbed to the point of panic when his father wants to change the dinners from Wednesday to Thursday. Cross has no religious beliefs (his analytic mind demands evidence to support any belief) but he enjoys playing the organ. A local church allows him to practice on its organ if he keeps it tuned, but Cross resists the priest’s effort to coax him into performing a recital for the parish. This all contributes to an unusual but welcome degree of characterization for the series protagonist.

When all the clues point to a particular suspect, most police detectives are happy to declare victory, arrest the suspect, and move on to the next case. Even if all the clues don’t point in the same direction, most detectives will pick a suspect and ignore the clues that are inconsistent with the detective’s theory of guilt. Not Cross. He infuriates his boss by insisting that the investigation continue until every detail fits into the puzzle perfectly. With Cross, if one fact doesn’t fit, either the fact is untrue or the puzzle hasn’t been solved. And so, just when it seems that one suspect is guilty, Cross discovers that the crime is not quite as simple as the detectives imagined.

The mystery of Alex’s murder is multi-faceted. While a reader might solve part of the puzzle, it may take a reader who is as focused as Cross to spot all the clues that lead to a full resolution. I am grateful to Grove Atlantic for bringing this entertaining British series to American readers.

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The Dentist by Tim Sullivan

First published in Great Britain in 2020; published by Grove Atlantic on October 21, 2025

American crime novels featuring law enforcement protagonists too often depict the protagonists as tough guy action heroes. British crime novels featuring law enforcement protagonists tend to be more cerebral. George Cross isn’t an action hero (he bicycles to work and doesn’t carry a gun), but he’s a dogged detective. Substituting logic for fists, Cross fights his way to the crime’s solution by exercising his mind. British crime novels make readers smarter.

Cross is challenged by Asperger's syndrome, a condition that makes him socially awkward. He would prefer to avoid social interaction entirely because he finds it painful and pointless. Cross lives with his father, who indulges his need for consistency and doesn’t force him to make small talk.

Cross joined the police because he’s good at solving puzzles. He’s worked his way up to Detective Sergeant in the Major Crime Unit of the Avon and Somerset police. His current partner is DS Ottey, who has “become his apologist and translator with the rest of the world,” a role she does not relish. His superiors tolerate Cross because he is by far the best crime solver in the department.

Cross’ behavior will be amusing to readers but it’s infuriating to his professional colleagues, who regard him as rude. Some fellow officers might be jealous; others might be displeased with Cross’ obsession with order and procedure, an obsession that makes it difficult for them to cut corners.

Tim Sullivan walks a fine line here. Asperger’s is a condition that shouldn’t be mocked, but it does lend itself to comic moments (just as Adrian Monk’s OCD is fertile ground for sprouting laughter). Sullivan balances humor with sympathy for Cross’ plight. After all, Cross didn’t ask for Asperger’s. Trying to interpret social cues so he can behave “normally” is draining. The condition complicates his life, even if it contributes to the obsessive focus that makes him a good detective. A good HR department (the kind that would be condemned as pro-DEI in the US) has encouraged at least some departmental understanding of Cross’ challenges. Sullivan takes the time to humanize Cross, to show the reader how his coping mechanisms (including abrupt departures from social situations that overwhelm him) are misunderstood by those who have no use for empathy.

Because of his Asperger’s, Cross needs things to make sense. That’s the trait that makes him a dogged investigator. If something doesn’t make sense, he needs to understand why. “He followed a strict trail of logic when looking at a case, and couldn't let go when he uncovered a hole in that logic that couldn't be explained away.”

The story begins with the murder of a homeless man named Lenny. Cross and Ottey interview someone at a homeless shelter who last saw Lenny arguing with a man named Badger. They take Badger into custody for questioning, but Badger is intoxicated and doesn’t have a clear memory of his interaction with Lenny. He does recall punching Lenny and on the strength of that memory, confesses to Lenny’s murder.

Cross’ colleagues are satisfied to clear the case, but Cross is troubled because Badger doesn’t seem to know that Lenny was strangled. Cross “needed proof. He needed certainty. Above all, he had an indefatigable need to get it right, to have it in order. For the right person to be found and convicted.” In a tradition that is stronger with fictional police detectives than real ones, Cross continues to gather evidence, hoping to prove or disprove Badger’s guilt with reasonable certainty.

Lenny turns out to have been a dentist who disappeared years ago and was declared legally dead. Lenny was never the same after his mother, Hillary Carpenter, was murdered in her home. Lenny devoted himself to harassing the police, who seemed to be slow walking the investigation. A photo of footprints in Lenny’s backpack was evidence in the case, but why did he have it? For that matter, why did Lenny return home after being missing for so many years?

Cross decides he needs to solve Hillary’s murder, as it seems to be linked to Lenny’s murder. The only significant clue is a red Jaguar that sideswiped a parked car as it raced away from the neighborhood at the time the crime occurred. Cross becomes concerned that the police did too little to track down the car and identify the driver.

The Dentist will appeal to fans of police procedurals. Cross and Ottey interview countless car dealers after learning that a witness recalled that the Jaguar had a dealer’s plate. The detective who led the original investigation, now retired, seems to have been deliberately obstructing it, but why? And how does Hillary’s murder connect to Lenny’s?

A credible plot seems to point to the guilt of an obvious suspect, but a final twist may surprise readers (like me) who prematurely congratulate themselves for solving the crimes. The pace never lags, but this isn’t an action novel. Characterization — Cross’ quirkiness combined with secondary characters who find ways to cope with him — is well above average for a thriller. It makes George Cross a promising new protagonist for crime novel fans to follow.

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The House Hunt by C.M. Ewan

Published by Grand Central Publishing on August 27, 2024

Lucy is claustrophobic. She also lives with a constant fear of being attacked. Her husband, Sam, is a psychology professor who runs support groups to meet his university’s community involvement guideline. Sam hasn’t managed to cure Lucy of her phobias, although one of his support groups is devoted to people with debilitating fears.

Sam inherited a house that he and Lucy can’t afford. They went into debt to fix it up before putting it on the market. A potential buyer named Donovan arrives to look at the house, but the estate agent is running late. Sam is working and Donovan has another appointment later so Lucy sets aside her fear and agrees to show him the house. Since this is a thriller, you know that Lucy made a brave but bad decision.

Intercut with scenes that set up events inside the house are scenes of Sam running his support group. A couple of its members seem unbalanced, particularly one who fears that he won’t be able to control his homicidal impulses. Will Sam be harmed?

The separate Lucy and Sam storylines eventually intersect, leading to multiple nongraphic scenes of violence. Characters find themselves under attack for reasons that most of them can’t comprehend. The reader is challenged to decide which characters are innocent and which are villainous. The reader will suspect nearly every character of living a hidden life.

Speed, intensity, and cinematic action are the novel’s strengths. C.M. Ewan accomplishes this by using the traditional tricks of the thriller writer’s trade:  short chapters (116 of them) populated by short (often single-sentence) paragraphs. He invites the reader to experience the novel as a movie by making frequent cuts between the main action and distant action. Ewan needn’t have used techniques that create the illusion of a page-turner; he speeds the story along by keeping it in motion at all times. He judiciously mixes in distractions — unexplained thumps, a character’s failure to respond after venturing into the basement — to ratchet up the suspense. His use of the genre’s writing techniques is masterful, even if they make the book seem a bit formulaic.

When it seems that the plot has been resolved, Ewan wheels in a new ending. He does this multiple times before the story finally runs out of gas. It’s fun to be surprised but when surprise follows surprise follows surprise, I feel like I’m being played. Given that the plot as a whole is unrealistic, I don’t suppose an unrealistic series of surprises at the end can do any harm.

It’s difficult to say whether Lucy is a likable character. She’s so frenzied that the reader gets little chance to know her. Lucy is the kind of protagonist who places herself in a dangerous position rather than waiting for the police to arrive, as if she knows that the story will be better if she does one more brave deed. Characters making stupid decisions is the foundation for every slasher movie, but I always hope that thriller writers will invest their characters with a bit of common sense.

My most significant complaint about The House Hunt does not relate to how the story is told, but whether the story makes sense. To avoid spoiling it, I won’t discuss why characters behave as they do. I will say that the topics of altered or lost memories and brainwashing make their way into the plot. As is often true in thrillers, Ewan’s vague explanations of how those concepts drive a character are unconvincing.

The obligatory upbeat ending will please many readers. Setting aside a plot that a less charitable reviewer might describe as preposterous, The House Hunt merits a firm recommendation for accomplishing the ultimate goal of thrillers: creating suspense, a puzzling mystery, and exciting moments. I set aside my concerns about the plot for the sake of enjoying a book that, despite its flaws, tells an engaging story.

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The Rising Tide by Sam Lloyd

First published in Great Britain in 2021; published by Penzler Publications/Scarlet on March 15, 2022

Relationship drama bubbles through the backstory in The Rising Tide. Lucy and Daniel Locke are married. At the 18th birthday party of their daughter Billie, Daniel’s friend Nick Povey made a pass at Lucy. That same day, Daniel learned that Nick betrayed him in a way that will jeopardize the continuing existence of Daniel’s business. By the time the story begins, Daniel and Lucy are about to lose their home in Skentel, a village on England’s North Devon Coast.

In the present, Daniel takes their boat into the sea despite storm warnings. The boat is found adrift but sinking as the storm is building. Nobody is aboard. Lucy soon learns about the boat and realizes that Daniel and their two kids are missing. She joins the local boat owners as they perform a search-and-rescue operation.

As Lucy is searching for her husband and children on a violent sea, all she can think about is yelling at Daniel. At least that gives her a break from thinking about Jake Farrell, who agreed to take her on his boat to search for her family. Jake is Lucy’s ex.

At another point in the story, Lucy runs into the ocean and nearly drowns just to “see what it was like.” This is just hours after she was drenched in seawater after the boat in which she was searching for her family nearly capsized. Fear that a parent’s children are dead (although Lucy never believes that because “mother’s instinct”) might well motivate a parent to engage in bizarre behavior, but Sam Lloyd never managed to make me sympathize with Lucy’s hysteria.

On the other hand, perhaps the reader is not meant to like Lucy, at least not while the plot is taking shape. As the mystery of the missing kids deepens, collateral characters make unflattering statements suggesting Lucy might not be likable at all. Lucy has ambiguous thoughts about “what happened in Portugal.” Those moments add a layer of intrigue as the reader begins to wonder whether Daniel, who seems to be the villain, might have acted in response to something Lucy did.

Detective Inspector Abraham Rose investigates the suspicion that Daniel scuttled the boat, drowned his kids, and threw himself overboard. The evidence all points in that direction, which is enough to make the reader believe it isn’t true.

Rose has lung cancer. He’s also having a crisis of faith that leads him to believe in Satan but not so much in God. He nevertheless believes his investigation is compelled by “a higher authority” than the law. Since he isn’t delusional, it isn’t clear why he harbors that belief. Rose’s thoughts often turn to a mother who suffers from dementia and a girlfriend he lost long ago. Those thoughts inspire him to feel sorry for himself, particularly when prayer doesn’t make him feel any better.

Lloyd follows the common convention of adding first-person narratives to the story without identifying the narrator. Since it is clear that the narrator dislikes Lucy, and given the positioning of the narratives within the story, the reader is encouraged to assume that the narrator is Daniel. Seasoned readers will suspect that they are being played.

Part of the truth is revealed somewhere around page 250 (of 350). Another part (perhaps derived from a famous book that became a famous movie) is revealed a dozen pages later. If the truth seems a bit contrived, that’s the way the modern thriller goes. The story then becomes a whodunit that challenges the reader to guess the identity of a villain who has contributed to Lucy’s mess. The villain’s motivation is thriller-standard and not particularly imaginative or credible. On the other hand, the villain’s identity is not easily guessed (at least not by me). But on my third hand, I didn’t buy the ending because the villain’s actions are cartoonish. On my final hand, those are common flaws in modern thrillers and not sufficient reason to advise against reading the book.

The “mother’s fierce love for her daughter” theme is overdone, although I give Lloyd credit for writing an intensely moving scene at the end of Part I. The long walk to the ending feels padded, as though Lloyd wanted to avoid rushing to a climax and instead dragged the story to its conclusion. Characters share thoughts they had shared several times already. Regrets and loss of faith and memories of “a life that no longer exists” and just get on with it, can’t you? Even after the climactic moment arrives, another 50 pages await. A tightening edit could have enhanced this thriller’s sense of urgency and kept tension from dissipating.

Still, the novel places interesting characters in difficult situations, keeps the reader guessing about whether protagonists are good or evil, and creates a reasonable amount of suspense. The suspense wanes and the characters are problematic, but Lloyd’s prose is vivid and the story has enough strong moments to make it worth reading.

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