Unless you count the Anita Blake Series (and I wouldn’t), this is only the third detective fiction novel that I can remember reading. ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ and ‘The hound of the Baskervilles’ are certainly more famous than this novel and often held up as exemplars of the genre. Perhaps this led me to expect a little more from this book than was delivered.
The plot centres around a young lady named Cordelia Grey who has recently become the sole owner of a detective agency. Her first solo case is soon after presented and the mystery begins.
She is hired by a notable scientist to investigate the reasons behind his son’s recent suicide. Obviously (well, predictably anyway), it turns out that the situation is not as it seems and she becomes embroiled in a murder case.
A curious, sedate and disjointed investigation follows. After our protagonist bizarrely decides to move into the selfsame cottage in which the ‘suicide’ took place, possible suspects are briefly interviewed whilst drinking tea, or when boating slowly down the river, or when on a picnic. How terribly delightful.
Clues are gathered and the case is eventually solved through a combination of deduction, hunches and, let’s face it, outright guesses. The climax centres on the revelation of the crime and the perpetrator….then winds down through 15 or so unneeded pages that don’t really add anything to the story. If anything, they detract from the impact of the resolution for no discernable reason.
Perhaps this is a more genteel book for a more innocent time, but I could do with a little more grit and excitement, not to mention logic. Not an unpleasant book, but hardly engaging or interesting.
Rating: 
