It's 1922 and Jack Haldean, young crime writer and former Royal Flying Corps pilot, is enjoying the local fete on a beautiful summer's day in rural Sussex. But then Jack's fellow officer, Jeremy Boscombe, is found dead in the fortune teller's tent and later the same day Boscombe's shady friend, Reggie Morton, is murdered in the village pub. Jack's search for the truth will lead him back to the Battle of the Somme and an act of terrible betrayal.
It's midsummer 1923 and Isabelle's parents are celebrating their silver wedding with a fabulous ball at their Sussex country house. But Isabelle has a dilemma: two men, the glamorous Malcolm and the quiet, troubled Arthur are in love with her. Her romantic difficulties are forgotten however when one of the guests apparently commits suicide. But Jack Haldean is not convinced.
Praise for Dolores Gordon-Smith: “With vision and vigor, Gordon-Smith pulls off another Golden Age delight.”—Richmond Times-Dispatch “A classic postwar country-house mystery with a Christie-like denouement.”—Kirkus Reviews “Dorothy Sayers fans will be most rewarded.”—Publishers Weekly Freezing and hungry, George Lassiter breaks into a stranger’s house where he witnesses a murder. But when the police find no evidence, they—and...
'A hundred thousand dragons lie, underneath an Arabian sky.' How do a few lines of poetry, a chance encounter in a London hotel, and a death in Sussex lead to a lost city of Arabia, and to the tombs of the Whispering Dead? Jack Haldean has evaded the truth for years, but now, enmeshed in the web of murder, theft and deception, he must find the answer and face up to the truth - a truth as deadly as any dragon.
In 1924, Charles Otterbourne's New Century company should have been the perfect partner for Professor Alan Carrington's radical new gramophone. But when murder is the result of their meeting at a London hotel, Jack Haldean takes up the case, in a desperate bid to save a man from the gallows.
Jack Haldean investigates the disappearance of Mark Helston, a rising star of a large coffee company, who left his apartment and disappeared, and the subsequent deaths of some of the missing person's family.
'Art, my dear boy,' said Mr Askern, 'especially sacred art, needs tradition. Tradition is the bedrock of our art . . .' He broke off, staring at the woman in front of him. Her face seemed to lose all definition and her skin turned an unnatural shade of putty-coloured grey. 'Art,' she said, her voice scarcely more than a whisper. 'Art! Oh my God, art!' She swayed dangerously. Jack leapt forward, catching her as she fell. Jack Haldean expected Lythewell...
When a mutilated corpse is discovered in the sleepy village of Croxton Ferriers, Jack Haldean finds an odd clue at the scene of the crime : a black marble chess knight with crystal eyes. Is murder just a game? It could be -- to a killer who calls himself The Chessman.