Lord Peter Wimsey spends his days tracking down rare books, and his nights hunting killers. Though the Great War has left his nerves frayed with shellshock, Wimsey continues to be London’s greatest sleuth—and he’s about to encounter his oddest case yet.
A strange corpse has appeared in a suburban architect’s bathroom, stark naked save for an incongruous pince-nez. When Wimsey arrives on the scene, he is confronted with a once-in-a-lifetime puzzle. The police suspect that the bathtub’s owner is the murderer, but Wimsey’s investigation quickly reveals that the case is much stranger than anyone could have predicted.
I knew I would love Sayers as soon as I read the dedication:
Dear Jim: This book is your fault.
Then add in the awesome Lord Peter Wimsey, about whom everything has already been said by people more eloquent than I, and I was in love.
- I’m learning that I love “historical” fiction that is written in the time it was set. It feels like Sayers is writing what she knows best.
- The language is decidedly British and of its time – total Kazen catnip.
- The mystery itself was interesting and fun and kept me thinking but not stressing over the whodunit.
- My brain had to be on to read this. No one’s fault, and not necessarily bad, but it wasn’t a nighttime book for me.
I’m torn whether I should give this four or five stars… let’s go with four now, and I’ll come back to reevaluate.