It has been forty-five years since we could all savor the prospect of a “Christie for Christmas.” Alas, that time is passed, so I propose a new tradition: a “Byrnside for Boo-time!” The classic-style impossible crime mysteries penned by modern-day scribe James Scott Byrnside are, by turns, mystifying, sometimes fear-inducing, and most of the time very, very funny. He has managed one a year for the past three years, so why not get a rhythm going, Mr. B., and start a new tradition. You can even tell them I inspired you . . . just like I did with Chapter Ten! (We’ll get to that in a bit . . . )
No trappings, however elegant, can mask such a devious mind . . .
As a rule, nobody likes to include spoilers in a review of a new book for fear of spoiling the mystery. Here, I find myself doubly flummoxed by the fact that I also don’t want to spoil any of the jokes. I will admit that once in a while Byrnside irritates me, once (in Book Two) he infuriated me, and occasionally he merely grosses me out. But most of all, I admire a man who, while plotting his mysteries, dives into the tropes of the Golden Age and wades deep.
The Strange Case of the Barrington Hills Vampire is the third chronicled case for Chicago-based Rowan Manory, that stocky, prickly, flawed but brilliant (or is that brilliant-but-flawed) private eye who with his associate, the unlikely babe magnet Walter Williams (my favorite Watson since Archie Goodwin) gravitates toward baffling puzzles involving truly terrible people. However, the events described in Vampire occur at the earliest point in Manory’s career yet. Why, after only two other books (Goodnight Irene was set in 1927, and The Opening Night Murders in 1935) does Byrnside jump backwards to 1920 and the height of Prohibition? Trust me, after that major infuriation in the second book to which I alluded above, just be glad he did this – and continues to do so for a while!
Read on here.
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