An Exaggerated Murder

The spectre of Pynchon looms over this entertaining novel. Trike Augustine is the classic Holmesian "smartest man in the room" detective, complete with ego and abrasive personality. His assistants%E2%80%94Lola, a gorgeous artist with a gift for data analysis, and Max, a former FBI agent%E2%80%94tolerate his quirks, but the police (about whom Trike says, "They suck and I hate them") are less patient with him. His new case, in which a man named Joyce (complete with Ulysses-themed house) appears to have staged his own kidnapping for no apparent gain, is filled with baffling clues and nonsensical red herrings. Thousands of dollars are spent hiding basic office supplies; circus equipment is tucked away in the sewers; library books get replaced with blank notebooks. Cook occasionally has trouble getting the zaniness and the hardboiled tone to gel, throwing in extended rants on the origins of hockey goons, a deconstruction of Polanski's Chinatown (complete with spoiler warning), and a series of Trike's internal dialogues on each of Joyce's facial features. Nevertheless, he makes the kitchen-sink approach work more often than not. (Mar.)