British Mysteries

In this novel, Dalgliesh is called in to investigate a horrific crime at the Dupayne museum, home of the murder room, and what is more, it seems to echo one of the crimes in that very room. Of course as Dalgliesh discovers, the family that owns and operates the museum, the Dupaynes, are in disagreement about whether the museum should continue or not. The victim is hardly a surprise to anyone who is more than a casual reader of mystery fiction, but James is such an accomplished writer she's able to play with the shadow crime, as well as to use the tired formula of the exotic and remote location, accessible only by a few, to trick us time and again. I didn't want to figure out the ending - the whodunnit - and I didn't. Like Agatha Christie, James never shies away from a brutally high body count, and this book is no exception to the rule. Dalgliesh appears early on to know who the murderer is but only calls him/her Vulcan to his colleagues, and the murderer's identity is revealed only at the very last moment. This is the work of a master writer at the peak of her craft - that that peak should occur when the writer is 83 years of age seems nothing sort of miraculous. For Dalgliesh, at the end of the book there's a measure of personal happiness - for the lucky reader, the pleasure is all contained within the pages of this wonderful book.