Death of a busybody

This British Library Crime Classics reissue brings back George Bellairs, who was extremely popular during Britain's golden age of detective fiction. Bellairs' detective stories starring Inspector Littlejohn of Scotland Yard spanned more than 40 years and 57 books. This one, Bellairs' third, published in 1942, is a vintage village cozy, but the village in question is polluted by a cesspool with both physical and symbolic dimensions. The body of Miss Tither, the titular busybody, is found face down in a cesspool next to the vicarage. Miss Tither had a surfeit of enemies, due to her berating of the villagers about their sins or their lack of religious zeal. As is usual in golden-age mysteries, the local constabulary is more given to eating than sleuthing, so Inspector Littlejohn is summoned for help from Scotland Yard. Littlejohn's uncanny way of sizing up people and getting the most out of minutiae is the appeal here, as is his witty skewering of characters according to their foibles. Fascinating period detail from the blackout days, a plot that keeps surprising, and contemporary crime novelist Martin Edwards' insightful introduction add to the fun.--Fletcher, Connie Copyright 2017 Booklist

First published in 1942, this atmospheric whodunit from Bellairs (1902-1982) in the British Library Crime Classics series kicked off a decades-long series featuring affable Scotland Yarder Thomas Littlejohn. Littlejohn travels from London to the quintessential quiet English village of Hilary Magna after the local gossip and scold, Ethel Tither, is found dead in the cesspool on the property of the Rev. Ethelred Claplady. Tither, who had no shortage of enemies, apparently drowned in a few inches of water, but she also suffered several head injuries. The inspector sets about listening to the locals' theories of the case while exploring the possible guilt of some of those who wished the victim ill because of her penchant for interfering with others' lives, as well as those with a financial stake in her demise. Readers should be prepared for a solid if unspectacular characterization of the lead. This mystery will appeal to those in search of a comfort read rather than a dazzling display of deductive brilliance. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

In his vintage reprint from 1942, Bellairs, the pseudonym of prolific Harold Blundell (1902-1982), asks who murdered a heavy-handed gossip whom everyone in the Suffolk village of Hilary Magna probably wanted dead.No matter what your business is, mercantile or personal, it's Ethel Tither's business too, and she's full of strongly moralistic opinions about how you should be conducting it. So when her body is pulled from a cesspool where she drowned in only a few inches of water after being knocked unconscious, the villagers are more shocked at the manner of her death than surprised that she was killed. Bellairs' regular sleuth, Inspector Thomas Littlejohn, sent from Scotland Yard to help Inspector Oldfield, of the Trentshire Constabulary, finds that he can't sit down to a cup of tea or a pint of lager without hearing the locals implicate each other. Miss Tither's death makes her cousin, the Rev. Athelstan Wynyard, a wealthy man and frees her maid, Sarah Russell, to marry shepherd Walter Thornbush without losing the annual payment she received from the estate of the busybody's late sister. Shortly before her death, Miss Tither had rebuked Polly Druce, a kitchen maid at Hilary Hall, for seducing married farmer Edward Weekes and given ear to a devastating rumor that her clerical cousin was a shipping clerk, not the evangelizer he'd claimed to be. Given such a rich field, agreeably unspectacular Littlejohn stoically resigns himself to checking alibis, questioning forgettable suspects, and dropping by the pub for another round of drinks and gossip, though the latter won't be the same in the absence of Miss Tither. The plotting is routine, the characterization perfunctory, and the surprises modest. But Bellairs' dryly ceremonious wit, which shines from the very first page, helps explain why Anthony Berkeley, aka Francis Iles, was such a fan 75 years ago. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.