Susan Ryeland, formerly working in publishing, currently running a hotel in Crete with her partner Andreas, is approached by the owners of the Branlow Hotel to investigate a murder which happened there some years earlier, where the wrong man may have been convicted... and which appears to have a bearing on the very current disappearance of their daughter, Cecily. It’s all mixed up with a detective novel by one of Susan’s former authors, Alan Conway, now deceased. And Alan’s book, Atticus Pünd Takes the Case, appears here in its entirety.
His detective, Atticus Pünd, very much resembles a German Poirot without the moustaches, complete with mansion flat and formidable secretary, though Madeline Cain plays a bigger role than Miss Lemon ever did. (Christie - or rather, her alter ego Mary Westmacott - gets a name check within Alan Conway’s text.)
The novel-within-a-novel was tremendously engaging - the only issue for me was that by the time I’d read the entire “Alan Conway “ novel (Atticus Pünd Takes the Case) I’d almost completely forgotten what was going on with Susan’s narrative.
There’s one particular revelation at the end which I can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner... but I didn’t. I wonder if any readers did? We can’t say Horowitz didn’t play fair!
Fantastic read and I’m now off to read Magpie Murders.
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