Five Red Herrings by Dorothy L. Sayers
AUGH. I love Lord Peter Wimsey, but this plot was much too complicated, plus about half the book was written in Sayers' poor attempt at Scottish dialect, plus for some reason I could not keep any of the six suspects straight in my mind, plus it was BORING. Every time it started to pick up a little, she'd immediately throw four policemen in a room and make them have a ponderous discussion about train schedules. The real mystery is how this book ever got published.
"Aye," said Macpherson, excitedly, "but dinna ye see it explains naething at a'? It disna fit the description o'the man in the grey suit that tuk the bicycle tae Ayr. Nor it disna explain Betty's tale to Bunter, nor the muffled-up man escapin' fra Gowan's hoose at deid o'nicht, nor the rabbity-faced fellow in the train fra Castle-Douglas tae Euston. An' hoo aboot yon man that came knockin' on Campbell's door o'Monday midnicht?"
It's my own fault for finishing the damn thing, I suppose.
