1985 cozy American detective fiction; sixth of MacLeod's novels of
Boston Brahmin Sarah Kelling and art investigator Max Bittersohn.
Sarah's aunt is putting on her annual Gilbert and Sullivan show, but
it will be made harder by theft… and perhaps murder.
The last book had rather more Max than Sarah; this one has much
more Sarah than Max, with the latter only appearing during the
wrapping-up. Again, the narrative suffers when they're kept apart, and
thus not allowed to do their double-act of detection.
Like The Grub-and-Stakers Quilt a Bee, the last MacLeod I read,
there's really not much puzzle-solving to do here; we get the
trappings of a detective story, and a very few clues, but mostly the
narrative consists of Sarah's internal monologue, as she carries on
being the general dogsbody for the production (one night only!) while
trying to find out what's going on with a missing painting and doing
some minor investigation of a suspicious death. One might say from
this narrative "ah, I think it's probably X" but there's certainly no
definitive set of clues that would eliminate everyone else.
By inheritance or pillage, Mabel had acquired a great deal of
furniture. Unlike Emma, Mabel did not keep the overflow in her
cellar. She preferred, as she often said, to enjoy her treasures.
What enjoyment Mabel derived from three hatstands with hangers made
of real deer hooves, three worsted-worked love seats, and a large
bronze statue of Atlas carrying an illuminated globe on his
shoulders and having his private parts discreetly dealt with by
means of a barometer set into his lower abdomen was a mystery not
even Max Bittersohn would have cared to tackle. And that was just
the foyer.
The really effective thing here is the portrayal of Aunt Emma, who's
been the driving force of the performing society for years, but who
has the grace to know when it's time to retire from singing and
directing. Even if she still knows how to scare up a replacement
Notary (for The Sorcerer) at short notice:
"By the way, Frederick Kelling, I hope you haven't forgotten who got
you off the hook that time you got drunk on bathtub gin and wound up
engaged to Cousin Mabel."
"For God's sake, Emma! That was in June of 1929."
"It was 1928. And the statute of limitations hasn't run out as far
as I'm concerned. Frederick, you owe me."
Apart from her it's another palate-cleanser: nothing objectionable,
but also nothing startling or unexpected (though it's shot through
with phrases from Gilbert and Sullivan, which works pretty well).
Followed by The Recycled Citizen.
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