The Rottweiler

I love most of Ruth Rendell's novels written as Barbara Vine, but didn't start reading the works she published under her own name until a few years ago.   I'm not sure why The Rottweiler wasn't published under the Vine pseudonym, because it feels more like The House of the Stairs or King Solomon's Carpet than the non-series books written as Ruth Rendell.  While entertaining and well-written, The Rottweiler is a bit to self-consciously eccentric, tying together several disparate (and one quite depressing) threads.

The Rottweiler is the name given by the press to a serial killer.  He strangles young women, takes a memento, and hides their bodies.  We quickly learn his identity, but not quite as quickly as his landlady, Inez.  A 50ish widow, she runs an antique shop and rents three of the four apartments above it.  Her assistant Zeinab has a loose relationship with punctuality and two rich fiancees, and her tenants (a woman with a fake Russian accent and an affable boyfriend who pretends not to live there, a mentally disabled young man named Will, and a computer consultant) wander in and out of the plot, along with Will's aunt Becky, his boss and his boss's sister, a theft ring, Zeniab's family, Becky's romantic target, and an enthusiastic but less-than-competent police detective.  It sprawls and doesn't quite mesh (Will's and Becky's story is much sadder than the other's, and Zeniab's includes one unexpected and hilarious scene), and relies a bit too much on coincidence.  I'm not sure if I've decided to never read it again (and donate my copy), or re-read it in a few years to see if my opinion was influenced by the personal upheaval I was dealing with while reading this book.