“Life is full of unsolved mysteries,” says the title character in “Diarra From Detroit” on BET+, “and as I once heard this guy at the post office say, minding your own business is a full-time job — and everybody needs to stay employed. But I had to get to the bottom of this one, even if it killed me.”

Created by and starring Diarra Kilpatrick, the eight-episode series defies categorization in all the right ways. Part missing-person mystery, part comedy about a middle school teacher coming to grips with her impending divorce and part drama about long-buried secrets, it has tremendous style right from the start — sardonic, knowing and self-deprecating. The answers to the central mystery may not pack a satisfying punch by the end, but the road there is as entertaining and absorbing as they come.

Diarra is beautiful and funny — and her personal life is a mess. Insomnia has frazzled her state of mind and she sums up the end of her relationship with her husband like this: He asked, “How do you feel about an open marriage?” and she replied, “How do you feel about a closed casket?” That’s the explanation she gives to a childhood friend who has just tried to break into her house to rob it; he didn’t know her mom still owned the place and that Diarra had moved back in. Once he realizes his mistake, they have a friendly midnight reunion, which gives you an idea of the humor driving much of the series.

Diarra has no chill (her colleagues call her Captain Extra behind her back) but she does have a knack for banter.  “Your name autocorrects to ‘diarrhea,’” says a fellow teacher. “Autocorrect is racist,” Diarra informs him firmly.

In the hopes of moving on from her handsome ex, she goes on a Tinder date and it’s one of those magical experiences where they instantly click. She dubs him Ambien because, after they hook up, she’s finally able to get a good night’s sleep, and they make plans to see each other again. But he stands her up. Did he ghost her? Or did something happen to him? Diarra is pretty sure it’s the latter, and from there the blundering, R-rated Nancy Drew-meets-Scooby-Doo misadventures unspool as Diarra and her friends try to figure out what happened to this man.

As their sleuthing takes them deeper, the story becomes darker and eases up on some of the comedy. The pacing can feel meandering at times (some hijinks are more interesting than others) and there are fewer scenes at her day job, which is too bad because every moment at school keeps the story feeling grounded in reality, even as the narrative becomes weirder and increasingly improbable. Somehow the Greek mob is involved, plus there’s an unsolved case of a little boy who was abducted from the mall 30 years ago. A history of ugly lies unravels thanks to Diarra’s efforts.

The show feels specific to itself. Like a handful of other titles — “Atlanta” and “South Side” among them — the setting is important enough to the look and cultural sensibility of the story that it gets name-checked in the title. Kilpatrick has given her own character a dazzling wardrobe, which gives the show an extra visual kick, and a number of recognizable faces show up in supporting roles, including Morris Chestnut, Harry Lennix and a very funny Phylicia Rashad.

“My insomnia must have turned me into a white woman from a horror movie,” Diarra says early on about her willingness to rush headlong into danger, despite her better instincts. Propelling her forward is a combination of stubborn heartbreak and a sleep-deprived, screwball belief in seeing this through.

“Diarra From Detroit” — 2.5 stars (out of 4)

Nina Metz is a Tribune critic.