I am a sucker for Agatha Christie-esque mysteries, and Georgette Heyer pulled this one off brilliantly. It's got a know-it-all Gary Stu amateur detective, bumbling policemen who couldn't detect the noses on their faces, swell blokes and plucky dames, and a bull terrier named Bill. This book was like a relaxing bubble bath for my brain. Heyer's sense of humor speaks to my sarcastic soul, and to say I'm in awe of her vocabulary would be an understatement. Suffice it to say, she had me at "squiffy." (Well, okay, she had me way before that. I just wanted to work the word "squiffy" into this review.)
This is my second Heyer book, which I liked even more than the first (one of her Regency titles), and I shall now embark on a leisurely quest to someday own all of her mystery novels.