I’m writing this as the Corona Virus continues its assault around the world and of course, this makes me think about death and I wonder if the next book would be my last book – in which case, please God – let it be a cozy mystery. And this book is exactly that!
First published in 1913, this book features Trent, an artist who almost accidentally becomes a detective and writes for a publication The Record. The murder is that of an evil stock-market genius – Sigsbee Manderson. Trent goes about his business and soon arrives at certain conclusions about who the murderer is. We later see that while the facts he discovered were right, his inferences, the supposed motive and his conclusions about the murderer are all wrong. This is a twist (and a good one at that) that upends Trent’s theory and raises more questions. It doesn’t help that Trent falls in love with Manderson’s now widowed wife – who could still be a suspect.
The final chapter however did not sit well with me. You know what they say about how the climax of a good whodunit must be surprising, but should also make you feel there couldn’t have been any other way, that surprising as it is, it is also the inevitable? This was not nearly as perfect – but still is amusing in that it keeps throwing multiple versions of a single event that has you guessing till the end.
To not say anything about how stylish the prose is would be a disservice – the humor, the droll observations and the sheer confidence of the verses feel nothing short of being hit by a storm.
I will surely recommend this to fans of whodunits, but a better book that I can think of is Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz. If you have a recommendation for a fellow lover of detective-fiction, do let me know!
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