Fen country
Here's riches! Twenty-six detective stories by the great Edmund Crispin—a splendid hoard, if sadly posthumous. Most of them feature his don-detective, Gervase Fen, and/or his almost equally sharp-witted friend and (unofficial) colleague, Inspector Humbleby of Scotland Yard. And all of the stories are as taut as a highly strung bow, and score a remarkable series of bull's-eyes. They turn upon a fine assortment of clues—dandelions and hearing aids, Sunday pub closing in Wales, a bloodstained cat, a Leonardo drawing. There are devices and tricks of extraordinary ingenuity—murder by letter, a circular literary forgery. And cleverest of all, perhaps, there are the many variations on faked alibis and switched victims—the alibied corpse that gives the killer an alibi, or the faked alibi that breaks an alibi. There seems no limit to the intricacy of Edmund Crispin's invention or the sparkle of his wit. And certainly none to the sheer delight that his puzzles provide.