Henry Tibbett

Rich, aristocratic, and at the heart of swinging London, "Pudge" Coombe-Peters has everything except a decent nickname. And in fact, he has two special attributes: He owns the narration-the drawling, deliciously snobbish, all-but-impossibly irritating narration-of Falling Star, and he has a chum named Henry Tibbett, who comes in just awfully handy when people start dying on the set of the film that Pudge is producing. Tibbett is especially welcome because, by the second death, it's clear that we're not dealing merely with murder but with Impossible Crime, the kind of fiendishly clever puzzle that is killingly hard to write and even more difficult to solve. The twisty plot and gorgeously retro setting on their own would make for a splendid read, but adding Pudge to the mix puts it over the top.

Inspector Henry Tibbett's better half, wife Emmy, takes center stage in a WWII mystery To date, Emmy Tibbett has been something of a secondary character-a placid, pleasantly plump presence who serves mostly to make her detective-husband Henry all the more likeable. With Johnny, however, Emmy at last gets a turn in the spotlight, as she and Henry head off for the 20th reunion of her Royal Air Force squad. It's a bittersweet trip for Emmy: She loved her work with the RAF, and she was in love with one of the pilots, but their happiness ended abruptly when he killed himself, crashing his plane into the North Sea. But was it suicide? At the reunion, Emmy is startled to realize that she may have been the last person to see her sweetheart alive. And she's more than startled to discover that virtually everyone connected with that fatal flight had something to hide.

An Inspector Tibbetts mystery "which only serves to prove how ingeniously well Patricia Moyes is keeping up her variations on the classical whodunit" (The Sun). Think the Country-House Murder is a relic of the 1930s? Think again, and say hello to the Manciples, exactly the kind of eccentric family you'd like to see lording it over your little English village. Sadly, the Manciples' day as lords of the manor may be winding down: A certain Mr. Mason-a local bookie who appears to have made some very good bets-wants to buy the Manciple estate, and he won't take no for an answer, despite their lack of interest in selling. So it's a matter of some suspicion when Mason is found in the Manciples' driveway with a bullet in his head. Like all the best small-town coppers everywhere, the village bobby is befuddled, calls on Scotland Yard, and is (mostly) gratified to be gifted with Inspector Henry Tibbett. Henry, though, is a little less than delighted to find himself saddled with a case that opens with an old man solemnly intoning "bang-bang," goes on to the mysteries of the Bishop of Bugolaland, and finishes with an inquiry into just what the family was up to in Africa, lo these many years ago.

As "Pudge" Coombe-Peters proved, Moyes had a gift for the kind of dreadful nicknames the British are so good at. This time around it's "Flutter" Byers, a small-time hood who gets himself killed in a seedy Soho pub (was there, ever, any other kind?). Byers consorted with criminals and owed money all over town; his death should have been little more than a footnote in the history of London gangs. But for some reason, Inspector Tibbett of Scotland Yard believes it's connected to PIFL, a backwater do-good outfit, currently trying to referee a murderous squabble between two small African nations. And these dark suspicions begin to look more likely when Henry gets word of another assassin's bullet-headed, this time, for one of PIFL's earnest, tweedy justice warriors.

A bit of a delicious throwback, in many senses of the word. For starters, we have a weekend house party, that hallmark of Golden Age crime-fiction, and apparently still going strong in 1970, when this book was first published. The party is in honor of a certain Lady Balaclava, herself something of a hallmark of the Golden Age, and still, yes, going strong. Well, at least until midway through the festivities, when she keels over, having apparently been poisoned. The most obvious suspects are her Ladyship's daughters and their (suspiciously foreign) husbands: Leave it to Henry Tibbett to head off to the Continent, there to check on the daughters' alibis and, once again, establish his bona fides as Scotland Yard's most peripatetic detective.

Tibbett takes to the slopes. If I were Scotland Yard, I might be that put-out with Henry Tibbett: He seems never to stay in England for more than about ten minutes, and he's always taking vacations! This time around, he and the ever-pleasant Emmy are holidaying in the Alps when a popular ski instructor gets it in the neck. Everybody in town is eager to point a finger-typically at the victim's wife, who is widely assumed to have had enough of his philandering. But Henry isn't sure, and sure enough, he is soon to be found poking his British bulldog's nose into a decidedly French scandale, turning up dirt on some of the swankiest swells on the mountain.

One of the oddities of Golden Age fiction was its fixation on the occult and the generally weird-ancient gypsy curses, haunted burial grounds, etc. It's therefore something of a relief to settle in with the refreshingly literal Ms. Moyes: When a title refers to a third dog, we are not talking about some metaphysical barking: There were three dogs and now one is missing. Up in arms about this is Emmy Tibbett's sister Jane, a stalwart of the animal-rights movement and a trial to the other locals, who are a lot more concerned with the fact that one of their number has recently been hauled off to prison for the minor crime of having killed someone while drunk. Happily, Henry Tibbett soon shows up to connect the two and restore order to the village ... though not before being forced to dress in drag.

Mavis Ironmonger is nobody's idea of a good diplomatic wife. She drinks too much, she's awfully friendly with the staff at the Washington embassy, and her music-hall roots have a way of bursting out at the most inappropriate moments. Indeed, it's at an embassy reception that Mavis manages to insult a visiting ambassador and get herself hauled off to sober up. With the party winding down, Mavis is due downstairs, to say the official goodbyes, but in fact she has already made her final farewell, courtesy of a gunshot. The ambassador refuses to allow the Americans to investigate, demanding instead that Henry Tibbett be called in from London. But if you know Henry, you know he won't be staying in DC; in an eyeblink he is headed to the ambassador's island nation, before haring back to Washington to prevent a second murder.

Millionaire Lord Charlton altered his will in favor of his nephew, Simon Warwick, who had been adopted by American parents when his own were killed in World War II. When Lord Charlton dies, two men claiming to be Simon Warwick turn up in London to claim the estate. Then one is found dead, and Chief Superintendent Henry Tibbett is faced with a double mystery: Who is the murderer-and who is Simon Warwick?

Fans of Emmy Tibbett, have we got the book for you! Vacationing with friends in the Caribbean, Emmy and Henry meet a sprightly and delightful spinster who spins a yarn about a young woman lost at sea and then (perhaps) found again. The yarn gets yet more fascinating when the spinster herself disappears, and Henry-wry, unflappable Henry Tibbett of Scotland Yard-responds in a most uncharacteristic fashion. It's up to Emmy to untangle the clues, contending with drug smugglers on the one hand and an addled husband on the other. And did we mention the hurricanes? Emmy, of course, has resources to spare, so much so that we wish we could bring her back for a series of her very own.

A killer of a crossword draws Inspector Tibbett into a mystery. It's a slow day at Scotland Yard, so Inspector Henry Tibbett takes a busman's holiday, immersing himself in the world of puzzling puzzlers. The hijinks kick off with an amusing gift: Someone unnamed has sent Henry the beginnings of a crossword puzzle. Even more mysterious: The clues point to the group of mystery writers to whom Henry has pledged to give a presentation. Most mysterious of all: None of the writers are who they claim to be, and one is a murderer. Which one? For that you'll need to solve the puzzle. Six across and then down, down, down.

Scotland Yard's Henry Tibbett and his beloved Emmy have been traveling and are now headed back to England, where Henry is on the ferry out of Harwich. It's a trip Emmy's been looking forward to-but her excitement flags when it becomes clear that the cabins are all spoken for, and she and Henry will have to bed down in the "sleeping lounge" with a motley collection of their fellow travelers. By morning, one traveler has lost both his life and his fortune in Dutch diamonds. That's bad enough, but a few days later, when Emmy's unpacking at home, she makes a discovery that puts both Tibbetts in real danger. It will take the combined analytical skills of the CID Chief Superintendent and his sharp-witted wife to get them free of that terrible boat ride...

The husband-and-wife sleuths leave London and take on crime in the Caribbean. Detective Chief Superintendent Henry Tibbett and his wife, Emmy, have escaped the London winter to bask in the Caribbean sunshine. They have an ulterior motive for the trip, though-to try to help their elderly friend who says she's being targeted by a cocaine ring. While keeping up the pretense of being clueless, wealthy tourists, the couple pokes around amid the palm trees-and goes to dangerous lengths to find the truth, which will involve Henry himself posing as a drug runner...