It’s the last week of the highly successful run of Tey’s stage play Richard of Bordeaux, and the book begins with her on a train from Scotland to discuss the national tour of the play and, perhaps, a film. Historical crime novels are all too often heavy on detail and atmosphere but light on plot, but that accusation could never be levelled at An Expert in Murder. However, once I had a look online I found others who didn’t get this one either, which was I bit of a relief and I figured it wasn’t just me after all!

I also couldn’t quite work out why everyone seemed to know Tey, and not because of her fame, in fact everyone seemed to be very chummy with Penrose too.Another issue I wasn’t convinced by (and which I’ve noticed other reviewers have highlighted) is her treatment of the gay characters. There, a pair of dolls–one male and one female–had been carefully arranged on the seat like actors on a stage. Removing her gloves and taking out a handkerchief, she cleared a small port-hole in the misted window and watched as the strengthening light took some of the tiredness from the cold March day. The narrative of the book is choppy, with a more sedate sort of head-hopping, with lots of points of view.

When a second death occurs at the theater, and similar strange clues are left behind, Penrose realizes that the killer is on a mission that may involve more deaths if the case isn't solved quickly. Upson clearly knows her way around pre-World War II London and the grimy backstages of Covent Garden, and delivers an ending shot through with palpable surprise and emotion.

I’m not used to first class,’ she admitted, picking up a silver butter knife to admire the railway crest on the handle.