A Piece of Justice

 There's a bit of uncanny valley reading books written during my early adulthood. The 1990s are far enough back now that a new book set there would technically be a historical, and I can't help placing myself in the context of the book. Jill Paton Walsh's second mystery, A Piece of Justice was published in 1995, otherwise known as the Time Before Cell Phones, and Imogen Quy, nurse for St. Agatha's College, Cambridge, might have continued her medical studies rather than giving them up for her former fiance if she's been born in the late 60s instead of the mid 50s. Imogen rents rooms in the house she inherited from her parents and one of her boarders takes on the biography of a deceased Cambridge mathematician. One researcher has died and another disappeared and it appears that the widow is behind the crimes. Imogen solves the mystery with a bit of coincidence, a quilt, and a trip to Wales. It's a quick read (under 200 pages), and a good way to spend a cozy afternoon. 

The Wyndham Case

A few years ago, I read Jill Paton Walsh's last Imogen Quy mystery, The Bad Quatro.  I enjoyed it, but Walsh's books appear to be out of print so it took a while to get to her first.  The Wyndham Case has a double meaning, both the mystery to be solved and a literal case of 17th and 18th Century books which St. Agatha's college must guard in exchange for a fairly generous stipend.  Once a century, a Wyndham representative makes a surprise inspection - if anything is missing, the college loses the money and Imogen's friend Roger, the librarian in charge of the Case, loses his job.

Needless to say, finding a dead body in front of the open case would violate the Wyndham will.  The body had been Philip Skellow, a scholarship student who had problems with his upper-crust roommate and a mysterious influx of funds.  It looks like someone surprised him while he was stealing from the Wyndham Case, but that doesn't feel right to police officer Mike Parsons.  He asks Imogen for some low-key help and she obliges, uncovering bullying, corruption, romance with a townie, and a calendar problem.  Walsh sets a brisk pace through the 223 pages she allots to her case, and produces a well crafted mystery that can be read in one sitting.

The Bad Quarto

I read two of the Peter Wimsey mysteries which Jill Paton Walsh finished for Dorothy L. Sayers's estate, so when I saw The Bad Quarto at the Book Corner, I took a chance on it.  I enjoyed it, although there were a few too many coincidences for my taste.  Shortly after a St. Agatha's College faculty member John Talentire falls from his window, college nurse Imogen Quy cycles by on her way home.  There's nothing she can do for the dying man, other than note that his office was on a wall known to tempt thrill seekers who climb college buildings.

A few months later, Imogen's grad student borders ask her if their dramatic society can meet in her living room, she assents and becomes unofficially drawn into the society.  They're bankrupt (due to a fire) and need to decide whether to accept wealthy student Matin Mottle's offer of financial support.  The support comes with a catch - he's never acted before and wants to play Hamlet.  It's not a minor consideration - the director and a few of the actors hope to use this performance to attract the notice of agents and producers and start professional careers in theater - but they acquiesce and choose an alternate version of the play (the titular Bad Quarto) in the hopes that they can minimize Mottle's damage.  Mottle turns out to be marginally adequate as Hamlet, but has friends disrupt the performance, accusing a faculty member of John Talentire's murder.  Walsh requires the reader to suspend just a bit too much belief (Imogen has chance-but-important encounters with too many interested parties), but sets up a neat, well-plotted puzzle.  I solved the mystery a few pages before the end, but by then it was the obvious answer.  Still, I enjoyed the book, mainly because I liked the character of Imogen Quy, and I'm going to look for the rest of the series.