Queer friend groups are funny in the sense that they almost always contain a messy cis-gay nightmare perpetually chasing their latest crush, a competent lesbian, an artsy enby, and a doll or transmasc who is wise beyond their years but somehow also deeply, deeply naïve about certain aspects of their own life.

This formula works because it contains an alchemical balance that ensures things are evened out — the competent lesbian ensures that executive functioning occurs, the thirsty one provides drama for the others to enjoy, the creative one is…creative, and the doll or transmasc offers a transformative perspective on a given situation that leads to action. Author Lev AC Rosen understands this group composition, which is part of why The Disaster Gay Detective Agency succeeds.

I’m biased when it comes to Rosen’s novel; I love any group of friends interacting around a conflict. Whether it’s as anodyne as the daily life dissected in “Friends,” “New Girl,” or “The Golden Girls,” or laser-focused on solving a problem (e.g., in The Thursday Murder Club or all of Angela Lansbury’s friends and relatives in “Murder, She Wrote”), centering a plot on a series of established relationships works. You don’t have to develop too much backstory; you simply assert that the bonds are there and let the circumstances prove it.

As a narrative device, the friends theme also works because it explains away a lot of questions. It’s why Nancy Drew, for example, always conveniently has a pal to help her solve every mystery or to substantiate her visits to random locations. The disaster gays in Rosen’s novel are a product of this long tradition, and their own shared history drives the plot to great effect.

Brandon, the group’s messy cis-gay nightmare, is a hotel concierge who foolishly hooks up with a guest named Jon who calls for an extra towel — a move that Rosen reminds us is a classic porn trope. The tryst sparks the action of the rest of the book: Jon was, it turns out, maybe a spy and maybe embroiled in an international arms deal provisioning access to black-market/dark-web information to the highest bidder. He vanishes overnight but leaves behind his phone, which Brandon treats as if it’s an earring on a nightstand: the standard left-behind reason to make a second date.

It’s not.

Competent lesbian Nicole, a lawyer, artsy enby Ian, a drag performer, and Ollie, a transmasc with a heart of gold, rally behind Brandon’s latest crush and, before they know it, are ensnared in a conspiracy that leaves a colleague of Jon’s dead. The friends, save Nicole, lead relatively flexible lives (i.e., they’re in their 20s and still figuring it all out) that lend themselves to tackling an investigation, and they soon launch into both cyber and real-life stalking to delve deeper into “the case.”

Along the way, they rope in Ian’s ex, a U.S. marshal, and Nicole’s law-firm partner/boss, who works with crime syndicates, for help. Rosen sets up each new character’s inclusion to mean something, and by the time we reach the third-act climax — which unfolds during trivia night at the multimillion-dollar townhome of one of Ollie’s dog-walking clients — the payoff, while entirely predictable, is satisfying.

The Disaster Gay Detective Agency is (and this is not a criticism) formulaic. It is exactly what you want from a murder mystery. What sets it apart and made it one of my favorite books of the year so far is its believable cast of characters, their relationships, and the trajectory Rosen has set them on. They’ve got the runway to go far, and I sincerely hope the publisher agrees. There should be a sequel, but even if there isn’t, Rosen has written a delightfully quippy, absurdly referential, quotable romp that I couldn’t put down (and that you should pick up). 

Nick Havey is a thriller and mystery writer and a lover of all fiction. His work has appeared in the Compulsive Reader, Lambda Literary, and a number of peer-reviewed journals.