This fat satisfying book is actually two in one cover (and over 450pp long). It begins with an unnamed woman sitting down to read a manuscript, "number nine in the much-loved and world-bestselling Atticus Pünd series." She is the editor for its author, Alex Conway. We learn a little about this woman's life, about her boyfriend, where she lives, what books she likes, that she smokes. Then suddenly her narrative takes a dramatic turn:
This book changed my life. . .Well, that certainly got my attention. I immediately agreed with our narrator about the joys of reading mysteries. And I couldn't resist that last sentence: I wanted to know what happened next.
But Magpie Murders really did change everything for me. I no longer live in Crouch End. I no longer have my job. I've managed to lose a great many friends. That evening, as I reached out and turned the first page of the typescript, I had no idea of the journey I was about to begin and, quite frankly, I wish I'd never allowed myself to get pulled on board. It was all down to that bastard Alan Conway. I hadn't liked him from the day I'd met him although the strange thing is that I've always loved his books. As far as I'm concerned, you can't beat a good whodunnit: the twists and turns, the clues and the red herrings and then, finally, the satisfaction of having everything explained to you in a way that makes you kick yourself because you hadn't seen it from the start.
That was what I was expecting when I began. But Magpie Murders wasn't like that. It wasn't like that at all.
I hope I don't need to spell it out any more. Unlike me, you have been warned.
The story then shifts to the manuscript she is reading. Magpie Murders is a mystery in the classic Golden Age style. Set in a small village, it opens with a funeral. The deceased seems to have died an in an accident, but then another death follows that is clearly murder, and a particularly gruesome one. The famous private detective Atticus Pünd comes down to assist the police with their inquiries.
I was quite caught up in that story, and like our narrator I was taken aback when it came to an abrupt end. She realizes that part of the manuscript is missing. While she is mulling over that, and over the story, she hears on the news that Alan Conway has died. At this point she introduces herself as Susan Ryeland. She then begins to try and track down the missing chapters. Along the way, she begins to wonder about the author's death, which has been classified a suicide.
I enjoyed this book very much, and I am amazed at Anthony Horowitz's cleverness. He must love mystery stories as much as Susan does. There are references and citations from Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, and more modern authors as well (not to mention Foyle's War and Midsomer Murders). I was tickled to see that Ian Rankin blurbed Alan Conway's books! Actually, I found the Atticus Pünd story even more interesting that Susan's investigations. It felt like a real book, not just something cobbled together to hang the larger story on. And there are references to, and even quotations from, the earlier books in the series, which really piqued my interest. If Mr. Horowitz ever wanted to write a Pünd story, I would certainly read it. In the meantime, I will be looking for his other books.