The road from Kirkcudbright to Newton Stewart is of a varied loveliness hard to surpass, and with a sky full of bright sun and rolling cloud-banks, hedges filled with flowers, a well-made road, a lively engine and the prospect of a good corpse at the end of it, Lord Peter’s cup of happiness was full. He was a man who loved simple pleasures. [opening paragraph]
I had a vague notion that I'd read all Sayers' Lord Peter novels, but apparently not! This one was not an unalloyed delight, since much of the plot revolves around railway timetables. In Scotland, in the 1920s. With concomitant oddities, such as crossing the tracks to board one's train; the presence of multiple staff on a station; being able to send unaccompanied items; and so on. This was a time when it was deemed reasonable to walk into a strange house if the door was unlocked... The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.
An enjoyable mystery revolving around the death of a disagreeable chap named Campbell, and Lord Peter's analysis of the loose-knit community of artists in which he lived and died. The six prime suspects -- for lo, Campbell's death, falling down a cliff near a well-known scenic spot, is not as accidental as it initially appears -- are distinctive and interesting characters, ready to talk about their art or lie about their whereabouts. There are also a few women.
Sayers had immense fun with the Scottish accent here ('noo we see as there was no necessity for a’ they whigmaleeries') and the dialogue is splendidly evocative, though occasionally dated (for values of 'dated' including 'racist'). Lord Peter's methods are delightfully unconventional and creative: Sayers' depiction of him is witty, allusive and rather more physical than in some of the other books. Not one of her best (my top three are The Nine Tailors, Murder Must Advertise, and Gaudy Night) but a pleasing way to spend an evening, and an intriguing insight into everyday life a century ago in Galloway.
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