If you haven’t read one of Dana King’s Nick Forte private eye novels, do yourself a big favor and rise from the mire of a miserable existence by snapping up the work of a masterful crime fiction storyteller.

Any of the seven Forte novels will do. They’re all jewels of fire-forged grime, grit, gunfire and the inevitable thud of the newly dead smacking the concrete. And they’ll all cure you of wretched ignorance and put you on the path of hard-boiled shamus righteousness.

So you might as well start with the latest, the lean and rocket-sudden Criminal Econ 101. Don’t let the title fool you. This isn’t a college textbook on forensic accounting.

It’s a spare, tough tale about the moves Forte has to make to get his ex-wife and beloved daughter off the hook with Albanian mobsters. The bad guys want to use them as flesh-and-blood leverage on the ex’s presumably rich boyfriend, the scion of a department store empire who owes nearly fifty large but isn’t even keeping up with the vig and hasn’t responded to their menacing entreaties to pay up.

Forte, an ex-Chicago cop who packs a World War II-era Army surplus Colt 1911 and keeps a roll of quarters in his pocket because brass knuckles carry too much jail time, is a bona fide tough guy in the Marlowe, Spade and Robicheaux tradition, which King gives a strong nod without tumbling into caricature or cliche.

His shamus can take a punch, throw one that can break bones and doesn’t flinch when somebody needs to get dead. He’s also smart as hell, knowing a shamus needs more than a tough guy act to stay on the sunny side of the dirt. He needs friends on both sides of the law. Forte can count on a fellow veteran of the mean streets who is still on the force, Sonny Ng, and a fearsome and unaffiliated South Side enforcer and collector, Goose Satterwhite.

Crossing the line of legality doesn’t bother Forte if that’s what’s needed to get the job done. That goes double with his daughter in harm’s way. Caroline is his heart’s delight. There’s nothing he won’t do to protect her.

But bullets and brawn won’t get Caroline and his ex-wife off the hook — or convince the rich guy to pay up now. Forte uses brains and deft but highly illegal footwork to lure an even bigger predator into the game. (Enough said about that. Go buy this book to read the rest of the story, as the late Paul Harvey used to say.)

A side note here. Crime fiction writers often get dinged about character development, which is too often interpreted as a need to give the shamus or cop a dog, a wife or ex and at least one child, resulting in some truly cringe-worthy treacle that gums up the main story all in the name of showing a softer side. (I’m looking at you, Harry Bosch.)

Dana King isn’t guilty of this crime against story. Forte’s interactions with his daughter are sharp and funny, serving up insightful riffs about the joy and the pain of fatherhood at a distance, watching a daughter grow up way too fast. It’s winning stuff that never gets in the way of the tale King is telling. Like Brylcreem — a little dab will do ya.

So endeth the lesson. Back to the book. Nobody gets dead in these pages, which may disappoint the bloody-minded reader. A thug’s jaw gets broken and Forte takes a beating and dishes out one or three.

The payoff is watching Forte figure out how to get his ex and daughter out of this jackpot without getting them or himself killed. The scheme also delivers maximum retribution to the rich guy, which is the cherry on top of this well-told story.