A murdered viscount, a detective named Heathcliff Lennox: the furniture of English crime writing arranged with obvious affection. Karen Baugh Menuhin writes the Heathcliff Lennox mysteries, and this is the tradition of the country house, the closed circle of suspects, and the amateur who notices what the professionals miss.
The pleasures of that tradition are precise and thoroughly understood. Manners matter. So does class, since a title in the victim’s name changes the shape of an investigation before it has properly begun. The catalogue files the series across crime and general fiction, which is the right double claim: mysteries of this stripe are as much comedies of English behaviour as they are puzzles.
Beyond the books our record stays quiet, and the books are more than sufficient introduction.