Search results for ""felony mayhem""

The War is over, but only just, and San Francisco is still crammed with military uniforms. Of course, being San Francisco, it's also crammed with Bohemians (in a few years, they'll be known as Beatniks). Noel Bruce straddles both camps: By day she's a straight-laced driver for the Navy, but at night she lets her hair down and parties with her flamboyant art-school chums. The party comes to a screeching halt, however, when a dead body turns up in a sculptor's studio, and the artists discover that pretentious mannerisms and amusing facial hair provide little defense against the chill of fear. As in Skeleton Key, the heroine is a working woman, and, like all of Offord's novels, My True Love Lies provides an intriguing bridge between old-fashioned, 1930s-style plotting and a kind of feminism that feels startlingly up-to-date.

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As in her previous book, Grave Mistake, Ngaio Marsh offers up a lady of a certain age, high-strung and hyperventilating, two ticks short of neurosis. Photo Finish's dead diva, the soprano Isabella Sommita, was widely loathed, so much so that the problem is less a lack of plausible suspects than an embarrassment of options. Though the grand country-house - and with it, the country-house murder - was history by 1980, when Photo Finish was originally published, Dame Ngaio got around the problem by setting the story on a lavish island estate, cut off from the mainland by a sudden storm. Happily, Inspector Alleyn is among the guests, and can take charge in the coppers' absence. The penultimate book in the series, Photo Finish is also one of only four books set in Marsh's native New Zealand. It's nice to think that she came home at the end.

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A collection of short stories written by Ngaio Marsh; a number of them feature Inspector Alleyn, the protagonist of Marsh's famous mystery series. Included as well is a television script written by Marsh and the very first short story Marsh ever published.

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"You don't believe me, do you?" asked Henry. "That I might have killed somebody." Well, really. The genuine murderer-the real pro-tends to keep track of that sort of thing. And he wasn't dressed for murder. The tweed jacket, the checked waistcoat, and above all the yellow bow tie...they would have enabled Henry to audition as an extra in a 50s costume drama-a dodgy bookmaker, say, or a ne'er-do-well younger brother destined for exile to one of the more obscure colonies. They were not clothes that you would risk wearing for a murder. Which is fine, since there isn't actually a body. And yet there are an awful lot of red herrings, just begging to be pawed through by the hapless Ethelred and Elsie, his chocolate-chomping agent. The funniest Herring yet in this deliciously giggly, Edgar-nominated series.

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There will always be an England, and in the world of traditional crime fiction, there will always be an Upper Quintern, the sort of Little English Village that is home mostly to the very rich and the servants who make their lives delightful. But Sybil Foster's life is not delightful, even if she does have an extremely talented gardener. Exhausted from her various family stresses - a daughter, for instance, who wants to marry a man without a title! - Sybil takes herself off to a local hotel that specializes in soothing shattered nerves. When she's killed, Inspector Alleyn has a real puzzler on his hands: Yes, she was silly, snobbish, and irritating. But if that were enough motive for murder, half of England would be six feet under.

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In 1968 Ngaio Marsh took her own Roman holiday (in part to research Italian police procedures) and the change seems to have done her good: Both her British and U.S. agents believed When in Rome to be the finest novel in her "Inspector Alleyn" series. As is so often (and so satisfyingly) the case, the tale concerns a murder within a closed group-in this case, a group of tourists visiting what Marsh calls the "Basilica di San Tommaso," who find themselves fumbling into a complex web of blackmail and drug-smuggling. Adding some irresistible color are depictions of both La Dolce Vita (of which Marsh took a jaundiced view) and the student radicals of the day, whom she seems to have found somewhat more persuasive. All in all, a brilliant example of classic Golden Age plotting melded with a decidedly Space Age cast.

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Sarah Deane is an English teacher by profession, but with these first two adventures she discovers that sleuthing—of the strictly amateur variety—may be where her truest passions lie.The first book takes Sarah, still a grad student at this point, out of her natural New England habitat and into the wilds of Texas, where her maybe-boyfriend is keen on a spot of birdwatching. But birds are not all that she spies through her binoculars, and so the adventures begin. In Down East, Sarah is glad to be back on home ground, but somebody, it appears, is not happy in any way at all, and Sarah is forced (and secretly thrilled) to put her newfound detecting skills to use again.

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It’s tough to be a preacher’s kid, and for Leo Stanhope it may be harder than for most. He was born Charlotte, and in the Reverend Pritchard’s home—as in all of Victoria’s England—there is little room for persons unwilling to know their place and stick to it. And things are about to get harder: There’s a gentleman who knows the secret that could get Leo locked up for life, and this so-called gentleman is not above a spot of blackmail. There is a bright spot, though, in the form of two little kids who are teaching Leo’s heart to open again, after a wretched year. In warming to them, he realizes how much more he has to learn. Leo knows how to be a man. Now he must learn to be a father.

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Andrew Basnett may be retired from academia, but that doesn’t seem to have stopped his former colleagues from dumping problems in his lap. This time around it’s the peppery Constance Camm, whose neighbors keep disappearing. Miss Camm and her sister, Mollie, might be tempted to shrug things off, were it not for a frightening letter. “I know where you buried the body,” says the letter, but…to which disappeared neighbor does the letter refer? And why was it sent to Mollie, who hasn’t been burying anything? Spurred by a desire to help a friend (and—admit it!—by his own curiosity), Professor Basnett starts poking around. But his efforts uncover more than one village skeleton, and they may call up more than anyone has bargained for.

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