Love interest nearly always weakens a mystery because it introduces a type of suspense that is antagonistic to the detective's struggle to solve a problem
What if I am not done? What if I am just waiting for the mum word, waiting it to be phrased the wrong way by the wrong person? What if all I am is a waiting for an excuse to remove the pin from the last link of the causal chain that keeps the wheel in. Wheel. That ought to be as good a clue as any.
It comes. Oh brother, it comes. Then I will keep quiet for a year or two but, hey, what can I say? It is still coming.
Come on, redeem yourself please.