He's No Sherlock Holmes.

(This review was also posted on Amazon.com)

Reader, please bear in mind that this, the third in the series, is the first Roger Sheringham mystery I've read, so I'm not qualified to say whether my impressions would be borne out by reading more in the series. (Why start in the middle, you may well ask? It was the cheapest of Berkeley's mysteries currently available on Kindle. I took a bit of a flyer on it.)

When the body of Mrs. Vane, late but not lamented, is found at the base of a rocky cliff in Hampshire, it doesn't take long for Scotland Yard's Inspector Moresby to conclude it is a case of murder, not suicide. It takes scarcely longer for Roger Sheringham to be hired by the Courier to hare off to Ludmouth to ferret out any interesting stories surrounding the mystery, hopefully before any other members of the press, or better yet, before Inspector Moresby can uncover them.

Imagine an amateur detective, himself a writer of detective fiction, who fancies himself a latter day Sherlock Holmes, to the point of literally comparing himself to said character in the course of this book. Imagine further that this character is at best half as smart as Holmes, and that might be putting it generously. Add a younger cousin who is recruited by the detective to play the role of 'idiot friend', and be a sounding board for all the detective's cock-eyed theories about the crime in question. Throw in a Scotland Yard Inspector who, unlike Lestrade of the Sherlock Holmes cases, is fully capable of forming correct deductions from the facts at hand, and who delights in watching the amateur engage in flights of fancy that fly in the face of the evidence. You now have a pretty fair idea of the important characters involved in solving the mystery, and their relationships to one another. The actual mystery, about which more later, is secondary to the interplay between Sheringham and Moresby, and the fun Berkeley has with describing it and with emphasizing to the reader the varying interpretations that can be placed on meager facts of a case, and the role a personal involvement with the suspects can play in the interpretations.

The original murder of Mrs. Vane, and the subsequent murder of the Reverend Samuel Meadows, turn out to be fairly standard affairs, readily understood by Moresby and ultimately by the reader, but in the end unprovable in the legal sense. But Sheringham has his judgment clouded by his own vain conviction that he is an infallible judge of character. As each new clue comes to light, he scrambles to re-arrange his conviction as to who might have committed the first, and then the second crime. All the while he is convinced that Moresby is deliberately trying to mislead him as to his (Moresby's) ideas on the murders. In Sheringham's mind, and possibly in Moresby's, the two detective's are in competition with each other, to discover clues or evidence that reveals the identity of the murderer(s) or proves his/her guilt. This dynamic leads to more conversations between the competitors than is realistic, but this entire plot requires a certain willingness for credulity on the part of the reader in order to remain entertaining. A contest which is highly amusing for Moresby (and the reader) is intensely frustrating and exasperating for Sheringham.

A brief description of the principal suspects and persons of interest is in order. Margaret Cross, who was Mrs. Vane's relative and live-in companion, or some would say dog's body, was the last person besides the murderer to see her alive. She stands to inherit a large sum of money from Mrs. Vane. She is also irresistibly attractive to Anthony, the 'idiot friend'. The neighbor to whom Mrs. Vane was heading on her final fatal walk along the cliff-top, Mrs. Russell, was actually bitter enemies with Mrs. Vane - a small matter of sexual jealousy. The indifferent older husband, Dr. Vane, and his assistant in his scientific inquiries, Miss Williamson, are possibly a romantic 'item'. Colin Woodthorpe, a handsome son of a local squire, was passionately involved with Mrs. Vane but was being dumped by her at or near the time of the murder. Samuel Meadows is a snoopy cleric of unknown origins who is staying in the neighborhood on holiday.

Berkeley's style is rather dated in a way that, say, Dorothy Sayers' or Agatha Christie's are not. For all that, it is clean and witty and free flowing. There is plenty of subtle humor, but I'm not sure how well such an approach to the grim reality of murder will wear over an entire series. I'll definitely read at least one more book in the series before drawing any more general conclusions. ( )