Mystery hits the right notes
THE VENETIAN MASQUERADE
by Philip Gwynne Jones (Constable £8.99, 368 pp) IT IS carnival time in Venice. As honorary consul, Nathan Sutherland is the first port of call for British tourists who’ve lost their passports or been ripped off by a restaurant.
But his life takes a dramatic turn after a night at the opera, where he witnesses a murder and the victim is found to be carrying his business card.
At issue is a long- lost Monteverdi masterpiece, now thought to be extant. Among those desperate to get their hands on the score are an English conductor and his wife, a star singer who engages Nathan to help track down the manuscript.
In taking on the mission, he puts his own life at risk, building up to a finale worthy of the grandest of operas.
Philip Gwynne Jones is a master at interlacing his plot with nuggets of culinary information. The result is an irresistible concoction of crime and culture.
MURDER IN MIDSUMMER Edited by Cecily Gayford (Profile £8.99, 288 pp)
THIS fair representation of classic crime writers starts well, with the ever dependable Ruth Rendell refusing to allow her Inspector Wexford a trouble-free holiday.
Though heading for retirement, Wexford has lost none of his powers of observation, particularly when it involves the female anatomy.
It is his admiration for a shapely pair of legs that leads to the unmasking of a killer.
Other stories in the collection reintroduce Lord Peter Wimsey, Sherlock Holmes, Father Brown and Dr John Evelyn Thorndyke, the alter ego of the under- rated R. Austin Freeman, who bring their wits to bear on cases that baffle the police. Inevitably, there are one or two duds. From John Dickson Carr, we get a mystery that must have been dreamed up in a rush over a wet weekend, while the contribution from Margery Allingham has been anthologised once too often.
Nevertheless, this leaves more than enough to while away a happy hour or two.
THE CASE OF THE HOUSEKEEPER’S HAIR by Christopher Bush (Dean St Press £8.99, 216 pp)
THIS is a story straight out of London’s clubland. Relaxing over a post-luncheon port, Ludovic Travers, a freelance aide to Scotland Yard’s finest, is introduced to a young war veteran who casually says he is planning a murder.
What is, at first, passed off as a sick joke takes on a more sinister aspect with revelations of treachery in a PoW camp providing the motive for a revenge killing. The first twist in the tale comes when the would-be murderer is himself murdered.
The conversational style of Bush suggests a story being told from the depths of a leather armchair. This being the late Forties, there are period asides on the petrol shortage and punitive taxes — snippets that enhance the appeal of an enticing story.