«Ninguém gosta de encontrar uma pessoa que não conhece de lado nenhum sentada na sua casa de banho, especialmente se está morta.» O que teria levado o antiquário Joseph Greenwooda percorrer de noite as invernosas paragens de Suffolk, em direcção à casa distante da actriz Victoria Varley? Que mistério se esconderia por detrás da sua morte repentina, seguida, aliás, de outras não menos intrigantes? É o que vai tentar descobrir o ex-detective John Webber e a sua amiga Elizabeth Thomas, numa investigação atribulada vigiada de perto pela suspeita , o perigo e... a morte!
Anthony Oliver was a British film, television and stage actor.
Librarian note: There is no article relating at the actor and the writer being the same person. But according to "Stop, Tou Are Killing Me" the birth and death dates match and his main character, Mrs. Lizzie Thomas, is a Welsh widow.
And just what are we covering up? Art world skulduggery? Drug smuggling? Murder most foul? Lizzie Thomas, housewife and queen of the art of gossip, and John Webber, retired police inspector turned private investigator, are on the case and ready to find out.
Joseph Greenwood takes a hefty sum of money with him on a quiet drive to English countryside. He's heard that a valuable unknown painting by Stanley Spencer may be hanging in the Flaxfield hide-away of one-time actress Victoria Varley. Greenwood barely has time to look the painting over before he's dead and the cash has disappeared. Not long after, the actress has done a disappearing act of her own. There are American art "dealers" looking for the painting, Greenwood's wife looking for the missing cash, a fellow policeman suspecting drugs smuggled in frames, and Lizze & John looking for answers to all the niggling questions that surround what looks at first to be a simple death by natural causes.
This is a fairly middle-of-the-road mystery. Oliver's strong suit is his characters. John and Lizzie are well-defined, interesting, and, most importantly, believable people. Lizzie is, as mentioned about, the queen of the art of gossip. And we know this because Oliver makes it plain in her interactions with the other characters. I've read mysteries before where a certain character supposedly just had this "quality" that made others confide all sorts of secrets to them...but I never got a real feel for why that was. I certainly never thought that I'd be spilling the beans myself. With Lizzie, it's different. I could see her plopping a cup of tea and some biscuits down if front of me and in no time at all she'd know everything I had to tell. I thoroughly enjoy the way Lizzie and John interact and form a team.
The weakest part of Oliver's story is the continuity. If I flip back through the story, he doesn't really jump around all that much....but it certainly feels that way. There's a bumpy, erratic feel to the storyline which makes it just a little difficult to stay the course. Fortunately the mystery itself and the characters are interesting enough to keep reader going till the end. A solid three-star outing.
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"IN JUST OVER AN HOUR AND TWENTY MINUTES, JOSEPH GREENWOOD WOULD BE DEAD ... "A successful art dealer with a penchant for paintings, Greenwood is blissfully unaware of his date with death as he drives through the English countryside. His mind in on the hot tip he'd received about a very valuable, origi9nal Stanley Spencer painting now in the hand of one-time actress and Flexfield resident Victoria Varley.
"But after one look, Greenwood's dead -- and Victoria and the large sum of money Greenwood had on him have disappeared.
"Not putting much faith in circumstantial evidence, the sleuthing twosome of Lizzie Thomas, plucky housewife, and not-quite-retired police inspector John Webber get on the case -- and discover that art collecting can be a most dangerous business ... and that priceless masterpieces can often lead to wholesale murder." ~~back cover
A complicated plot, embellished by a sterling cast of characters -- the most notable being Harry Fellows. And then there was the vicar, and his wife, and Betsey and Doreen (Betsey being an antique dealer married to Doreen, who is Lizzie's daughter). Not to mention Rose Greenwood, Joseph's widow, who arrives in the village in an attempt to find out where the twenty thousand pounds has gone; and her mother, who follows her down.
As you can plainly see, it becomes more complicated as Victoria disappears ... is she dead? Or has she just absconded with the money? Harry (her erstwhile lover) seems frantic, but what can he do? Nothing, but let the ladies come to his bed.
It takes all the ingenuity John Webber has, with the staunch help of Lizzie and Andy Baldwin -- the recently resigned young plod who wanted to work with John, and whom Lizzie has semi-adopted -- to ferret out where Victoria was, how she got there, and who put her there.
A busybody and a retired police detective take forever to discover and solve a murder, all while others are trying to find a previously unknown painting by a prominent local artist. Ho hum.
Last of the four books Oliver wrote featuring John Webber and Mrs. Thomas; perhaps my bittersweet reaction to that knowledge has me uncertain how I feel about this effort. Much of a piece with the others, John and Lizzie are their usual interesting selves, and the story is just complex enough to keep you unsure even when you think you've figured it out. At the very last, Oliver introduces young Andy Baldwin to the mix and our duo is now a threesome. Undecided whether Oliver intended to use his addition as an expension of the series going forward (which never happened at all) or this was a sort of "wrap it all up in a bow (there is a reason why they might end their sleuthing at this point, you'll know if you read the book) and end it" strategy. In any event, it's a good read, but as with #2 and #3, still a good way behind the first, The Pew Group, which was a terrific debut...
A Stanley Spencer painting, an art dealer dead in a lavatory, missing lovers, a handsome young villain, the irrepressible Mrs. Thomas and Webber, and lots and lots of dead bodies. Oliver's writing always hooks me in, and the way he describes Flaxfield and its inhabitants makes for a thoroughly good reading.