Obviously, Agatha Christie is still the reigning queen of misdirection in a mystery, but for this task I'm going to go with Colin Dexter's Inspector Morse series, which I am bit by bit revisiting at the moment, courtesy of the splendid audio versions narrated by Samuel West. The solutions of Dexter's books frequently depend on anagrams, crossword-style clues and similar instances of lateral and "six degrees of separation" thinking (the protagonist isn't named Morse for nothing), all which he tends to employ to great effect -- not least since before you've cottoned on to the particular sleight of hand he is using at any given time, the plot still seems to make sense to you and you might well think you're on to quite a different solution.  The Wench is Dead has always been one of my favorite books by Dexter, not least because it also contains a bit of historical fiction writing (of sorts) and a story within a story -- in essence, it's Dexter's bow to Josephine Tey's The Daughter of Time and The Franchise Affair.

Georgette Heyer: Behold, Here's Poison
(Narrator: Ulli Birvé)

The first Georgette Heyer mysteries I read were her Inspector Hemingway books, which in a way meant I was starting from the wrong end, as Hemingway progressed to the rank of inspector from having been the lead investigator's sergeant in the earlier Superintendent Hannasyde books.  That doesn't impede my enjoyment of Hannasyde's cases in the least, however, now that I'm getting around to these, even though I found the first one (Death in the Stocks) seriously underwhelming.  But Heyer redeems herself in a big way with Behold, Here's Poison: Though a fair share of her mysteries have a sizeable contingent of 1920s-30s stock-in-trade bright young things and generally "nice chaps" (which got on my nerves enough at one point to make me decide I'd had enough of Heyer), when she did set her mind to it, nobody, not even Agatha Christie, did maliciously bickering families like her.  And the family taking center stage here must be one of the meanest she's ever come up with, only (just) surpassed by the Penhallows.  I'm not overwhelmed with the story's romantic dénouement (there always is one in Heyer's books), and while I guessed the mystery's essential "who" and had a basic idea of the "why" at about the 3/4 - 4/5 mark (the actual "why" was a bit of a deus ex machina), by and large this has to count among my favorite Heyer mysteries so far ... though not quite reaching the level of my overall favorite, Envious Casca.

Ulli Birvé isn't and won't ever become my favorite narrator, and she seriously got on my nerves here, too.  Since all of the recent re-recordings of Heyer's mysteries are narrated by her, though, I've decided I won't hold her mannerisms against the author, and I've read enough print versions of Heyer books at this point to have a fairly good idea of what a given character would sound like in my head if I'd read instead of listened to the book in question.

Colin Dexter: The Riddle of the Third Mile
(Narrator: Samuel West)

For Veterans' / Armistice Day I'm claiming the very first book I revisited after the beginning of the 24 Festive Tasks game: Colin Dexter's The Riddle of the Third Mile had long been one of my favorite entries in the Inspector Morse series, but Samuel West's wonderful reading not only confirmed that status but actually moved it up yet another few notches.  (Samuel West is fast becoming one of my favorite audiobook narrators anyway.) The fact that due to the progress of medical research a key element of the mystery would have been much easier to solve these days does not impede my enjoyment in the least ... changing social mores aside, half the Golden Age crime literature, including many of the great classics by Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers and even, on occasion, Arthur Conan Doyle would be deprived of substantial riddles if they were set today. -- The book qualifies for this particular "24 Festive Tasks" square, because some of the characters' and their siblings' encounter as British soldiers at the battle of El Alamein (1942) forms the prologue to the book and an important motive for their actions in the world of Oxford academia and Soho strip clubs, some 40 years later.

I bet this is one door Marlowe is regretting to put his head through. Getting involved with Moose Malloy, who is searching for his girlfriend Velma after having spent the last 8 years in jail, Marlowe gets involved with the mob, jewel-robbers, dangerous thugs and the police and he has to deal with all the problems that these aquantiances carry with them.

This was such a compelling read from beginning to end with an intricate plot that left me in awe of Chandlers writing skills. Told from the first person perspective of Philip Marlowe, you follow him trough all his hardships and perils. And Marlowe is such a great character, who is always having a snarky reply on his lips and who doesn´t shy away from dangerous situations, either because he has a job to do or because someone has wronged him personally (occasionally he experiences an anxiety attack, which makes him even more likeable).

The only thing I have to say is that the dialogues sometimes are hard to read, because some characters use word or slang words that I´m not familiar with. But this doesn´t take much away from my overall enjoyment of Raymond Chandlers novels.

I´ve read this book for the Classic Noir square and Farewell, My Lovely oozes noir atmosphere.

I slit one down the middle. The mouthpiece part was pretty tough to slit. Okey, I was a tough guy, I slit it anyway. See, can you stop me?

Raymond Chandlers writing is brilliant and it gets even better, when Marlowe talks to other characters:

"Philip Marlowe, Private Investigator. One of those guys, huh? Jesus, you look tough enough. What was you doing all the that time?"

"All what time?"

"All the time this Malloy was twisting the neck of this smoke."

"Oh, that happened in another room," I said. "Malloy hadn´t promised me he was to break anybody´s neck."

"Ride me," Nulty said bitterly. "Okey, go ahead and ride me. Everybody else does. What´s another one matter? Poor old Nulty. Let´s go on up and throw a couple of nifties at him. Always good for a laugh, Nulty is."

"I´m not trying to ride anybody," I said. "That´s the way it happened - in another room."

"Oh, sure," Nulty said through a fan of rank cigar smoke. "I was down there and saw it, didn´t I? Don´t you pack no rod?"

"Not on that kind of job."

"What kind of a job?"

"I was looking for a barber who had run away from his wife. She tought he could be persuaded to come home."

"You mean a dinge?"

"No, a Greek."

"Okey," Nulty said and spit into his waste basket. "Okey. You met the big guy how?"

"I told you already. I just happened to be there. He threw a negro out of the doors of Florian´s and I unwisely poked my head in to see what was happening. So he took me upstairs."

"You mean he stuck you up?"

"No, he didn´t have the gun then. At least, he didn´t show one. He took the gun away from Montgomery, probably. He just picked me up. I´m kind of cute sometimes."

Hats off to Nulty for keeping up with Marlowe´s explanations.

The final book (13/13), in the series of crime novels featuring Chief Inspector Morse and a bravura performance from the great detective (and his creator), on which to bring down the curtain. For all his foibles and personality flaws, the irascible Morse stands tall among the pantheon of fictional sleuths and in spite of deteriorating health, he remains the best that Thames Valley CID can put in the field. And, in this tale, a particular focus is shone on the respective relationships between Morse, DS Lewis and Chief Superintendent Strange, which only adds to the feeling of a finale.

The unsolved murder of nurse, Yvonne Harrison, the previous year is a source of bitter regret for Strange and with his retirement looming, he would dearly like to leave a clean slate. However, notwithstanding the determined coercion of his superior officer, Morse is reluctant to take the case, to the point of outright insubordination. Lewis, suspecting that Morse perhaps had an historic entanglement with the victim, gets the re-opened investigation underway, but finds Morse popping up ‘unofficially’, usually ahead of his own inquiries.

Between the family members (husband, daughter, son), a series of lovers and the closed ranks of the local village, the list of suspects is lengthy. However, it is gratifying to see Lewis, unaccustomed to leading proceedings, take up the mantle, as the continued deterioration in Morse’s health hampers his involvement.

Reflections from each of the policemen are also poignant. For example, Lewis observes that “his own service in the CID had been enriched immeasurably because of his close association, over so many years now, with his curmudgeonly, miserly, oddly vulnerable chief”. In his turn, Morse takes to writing down his latest thoughts on the case, almost as a premonition or at least an insurance against his unpredictable health concerns. In the event, the case is chased to an elaborate conclusion, with the author twisting and turning to the last, but the loss of Morse, by comparison, overshadows a rather mundane and tawdry outcome.

For a brief moment, even Lewis has cause to consider the ethics of his hero’s apparent actions, but happily Morse’s reputation for authentic leadership emerges untainted. Moreover, it may speak volumes that as a reader, I also mourn his passing. Still, while television indulges in imagined sequels and prequels, the series of books crafted by Colin Dexter remains the undisputed origin of a truly exceptional literary character. May they both rest in peace.