There was a time when television mysteries didn’t feel like homework. Before every case file required a chalkboard full of trauma backstories and a detective who hadn’t slept in nine years, TV used to keep a little corner carved out for sun-kissed danger — trouble wrapped in good tailoring, flirtation, and just enough chaos to keep you leaning toward the screen. The iconic detective show, Magnum P.I., thrived in that pocket, all warm coastline swagger and effortless charm. Remington Steele played the game with a martini in hand. Moonlighting let the banter do half the detective work. Even when Simon & Simon fumbled into something shady, it still felt like a story you could watch with the windows open.
