As seems true of some novels that introduce amateur sleuths (or, in this case, convert existing, more comical characters into amateur sleuths), the sleuths-to-be are essentially secondary characters to a traditional detective plot. In this case, we have a Lt. Weigand and his aggrieved Mullins as a pair of police inspectors who dig down and do a lot of footwork trying to solve a crime of a decidedly unlocked room variety. A body is found in an empty apartment that is always left unlocked for potential buyers. The couple who found it, the eponymous Norths, and members of their extended social circle, are suspect for a variety of reasons: mostly involving money and lust and various social (not so) slights. The man killed was generally unpleasant, prone to affairs and to rubbing people the wrong way, though not an awfully terrible sort while the people who are suspected have a number of flimsy alibis and secret meetings and financial blips. The Norths are known by the readers to be not the killers, which is fine enough because the police seem barely to suspect them - part of me did wonder what sort of plot twist would allow for them to been behind it all along, and how this would impact the rest of the series - but everyone else on the list seems both likely and unlikely murderers as well.
This makes up the bulk of the novel, where nothing seems set in stone and the unpeeling of the layers just leads to more possible links and less definite conclusion. Until it does conclude: not with a stirring confession by the killer but a combination of flimsy and definite evidence. And, true to form, most of the clues were there the whole time though never so much as to completely spoil it. No doubt some readers "knew" the killer, but they just as well could have been wrong, or right for the wrong reasons (the real motive is only explained in the final few pages). All in all an ok mystery, a bit light on the depth and full of the kind of characters (the other suspects) that only slightly intrigue: passionate in their own world, but mostly for the things that I would just as well leave alone. A second murder seems a bit extraneous, but helps to drive the plot, though it just as well could have been left alone.
Where the book shines is in its snapshot view of a time. This is pre-war (World War II) New York, with all its racism and (albeit mildly stated, here) classicism and genteel sexism and anti-Hitler propaganda being viewed not so much as a pro-American-goodness as a business impediment for perhaps a good cause. A Japanese butler is described as being of an alien mind (and given a pidgin accent) and there's a tiny scene, passed off a bit comically, of an inspector eyeing a young African-American with suspicion (and being eyed with suspicion in turn) just because the young man is a person-of-color on the street of New York. While one is forced to accept the attitudes of the time, the telling here occasionally feels almost judgmental, like the Lockridges are chiding New York for its many stripes and the way its many stripes view the other ones, but not completely. It feels honest, at any rate, for the good and the bad. The distrust of the police by the non-white folks seems prescient, under-the-radar commentary that might not have been meant as such.
Likewise, we get a glance in the living conditions of the upper middle crust (or maybe the lower upper crust) and the set up of shops and apartments and streets and subways. It is almost anthropologically in its joy of making the time period vibrant. When the police discuss various unsavory methods of getting evidence out of suspects, we too get a glance of the methods of the time to investigate crime, and not all of them heroic. The methods of investigation seem thorough, and well described. As far as I know, it is an accurate (and again, feels honest) portrayal of the techniques and their occasional failings.
Weigand is primarily the star of this one, and does honorably as a main character soon to be shunted slightly aside for the Norths (I presume) in the follow-up titles. He is generally effective, both as an inspector and as a character, as he mulls over the crime and its effects. He is perhaps a bit too prone to latch to the female suspects, though as in most things in this book, it feels a bit honest. As he contemplates not only the solving of the crime, and its impact, he questions the outcome of his solving it: one of these people will go to jail or the electric chair. This feeling of the weight not only of putting a killer behind bars but the aftermath of doing so adds some gravity to the situation. I enjoyed the way he pulled things apart, albeit somewhat slowly and sometimes backed by luck, and enjoyed the way he was used as a bit of a commentary on the genre itself. The book does do this, and occasionally well, with some lampshade hanging about the way crime novels work versus real life. It was often pleasant to read these asides.
I am down to continue this series, even if the shift to the Norths will undoubtedly change some of the focus.