A Presumption of Death: The new Lord Peter Wimsey Novel [Paperback]

'Jill Paton Walsh has...given us a Lord Peter story in the true Sayers' style and tradition' (Norma Major - The Week on Thrones, Dominations )

'An engrossing, intelligent and provocative novel in the guise of a conventional mystery.' (Joyce Carol Oates, New York Times Book Review )

'Could this be the best book Dorothy L. Sayers never wrote? She has done a splendid job - certain to please the legions of Sayers loyalists as well as readers new to the Wimsey canon . . . Lord Peter has been made much more human and interesting by marriage. . . and the story is full of twists and connivance.' (Chicago Tribune on THRONES, DOMINATIONS )

'A must for all Wimsey lovers...an entertaining read which offers some longed for insight into the lives of the Wimseys after their marriage' (Northern Echo (Presumption of Death) )

'Vintage whimsey ... Wimsey lives on in delicious familiarity in this triupmh not just of one writer's art, but of two' (Huddersfield Daily Examiner (Presumption of Death) )

'An admirable page-turner with some fascinating detail' (Publishing News )

'Jill Paton Walsh excels as Ms Sayers' posthumous voice. As before the two authors blend seamlessly and the intricately woven plot would grace anything from the golden age of detective writing' (Norfolk Journal (Presumption of Death) )

"Undeniably fascinating reading for lovers of good crime novels - nad, in particular, those who loved the Lord Peter Wimsey series." (Liverpool Echo )

"A must for all Wimsey lovers, this beautifully written novel is a murder mystery in the style of Agatha Christie." (Lancashire Evening Post )

"A truly engaging read" (Lancashire Evening Post )

'Jill Paton Walsh has...given us a Lord Peter story in the true Sayers' style and tradition'

'An admirable page-turner with some fascinating detail'

'Vintage whimsey ... Wimsey lives on in delicious familiarity in this triupmh not just of one writer's art, but of two'

"A must for all Wimsey lovers, this beautifully written novel is a murder mystery in the style of Agatha Christie."

"A truly engaging read"

In A Presumption of Death, Jill Paton Walsh tells how World War II changed the lives of Peter, Harriet and their growing family.



The story opens in 1940. Harriet Vane - now Lady Peter Wimsey - has taken her children to safety in the country. But the war has followed them: glamorous RAF pilots and even more glamorous land-girls scandalise the villagers; the blackout makes the night-time lanes as sinister as the back alleys of London. Then the village's first air raid practise ends with a very real body on the ground - not a war casualty but a case of plain, old-fashioned murder. And even before the second body is found, Lord Peter Wimsey and his brilliant wife are on their way to finding the killer. (20021221)

Jill Paton Walsh, born in 1937, is the author of five novels for adults: the fourth of these, Knowledge of Angels, was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. Before writing for adults she made a career as a writer of children's books and has won many literary prizes. In addition she is the author of two crime novels: The Wyndham Case and A Piece of Justice, which was shortlisted for the Crime Writers' Association Gold Dagger Award. These novels feature Imogen Quy, the college nurse at St Agatha's College, Cambridge, as her heroine. (20021201)

For the twentieth time since the train had left Carlisle, Pender glanced up from Murder at the Manse and caught the eye of the man opposite.
He frowned a little. It was irritating to be watched so closely, and always with that faint, sardonic smile. It was still more irritating to allow oneself to be so much disturbed by the smile and the scrutiny. Pender wrenched himself back to his book with a determination to concentrate upon the problem of the minister murdered in the library.
But the story was of the academic kind that crowds all its exciting incidents into the first chapter, and proceeds thereafter by a long series of deductions to a scientific solution in the last. Twice Pender had to turn back to verify points that he had missed in reading. Then he became aware that he was not thinking about the murdered minister at all – he was becoming more and more actively conscious of the other man’s face. A queer face, Pender thought.
There was nothing especially remarkable about the features in themselves; it was their expression that daunted Pender. It was a secret face, the face of one who knew a great deal to other people’s disadvantage. The mouth was a little crooked and tightly tucked in at the corners, as though savouring a hidden amusement. The eyes, behind a pair of rimless pincenez, glittered curiously; but that was possibly due to the light reflected in the glasses. Pender wondered what the man’s profession might be. He was dressed in a dark lounge suit, a raincoat and a shabby soft hat; his age was perhaps about forty.
Pender coughed unneccessarily and settled back into his corner, raising the detective story high before his face, barrierfashion. This was worse than useless. He gained the impression that the man saw through the manoeuvre and was secretly entertained by it. He wanted to fidget, but felt obscurely that his doing so would in some way constitute a victory for the other man. In his self-consciousness he held himself so rigid that attention to his book became a sheer physical impossibility. There was no stop now before Rugby, and it was unlikely that any passenger would enter from the corridor to break up this disagreeable solitude à deux. Pender could, of course, go out into the corridor and not return, but that would be an acknowledgement of defeat. Pender lowered Murder at the Manse and caught the man’s eye again.
‘Getting tired of it?’ asked the man.
‘Night journeys are always a bit tedious,’ replied Pender, half relieved and half reluctant. ‘Would you like a book?’
He took The Paper-Clip Clue from his briefcase and held it out hopefully. The other man glanced at the title and shook his head.
‘Thanks very much,’ he said, ‘but I never read detective stories. They’re so – inadequate, don’t you think so?’
‘They are rather lacking in characterization and human interest, certainly,’ said Pender, ‘but on a railway journey—’
‘I don’t mean that,’ said the other man. ‘I am not concerned with humanity. But all these murderers are so incompetent – they bore me.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ replied Pender. ‘At any rate they are usually a good deal more imaginative and ingenious than murderers in real life.’
‘Than the murderers who are found out in real life, yes,’ admitted the other man.
‘Even some of those did pretty well before they got pinched,’ objected Pender.
‘Crippen, for instance; he need never have been caught if he hadn’t lost his head and run off to America. George Joseph Smith did away with at least two brides quite successfully before fate and the News of the World intervened.’
‘Yes,’ said the other man, ‘but look at the clumsiness of it all; the elaboration, the lies, the paraphernalia. Absolutely unnecessary.’
‘Oh come!’ said Pender. ‘You can’t expect committing a murder and getting away with it to be as simple as shelling peas.’
‘Ah!’ said the other man. ‘You think that, do you?’ --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.