Robert Barnard

The Skeleton In The Grass, reminiscent of Robert Barnard’s much-acclaimed Out of the Blackout, illuminates an earlier time and place: a small English village in 1936, as Franco’s troops are conquering Spain and Hitler’s legions are preparing to overrun Europe. The world at large may be sliding into the abyss of disaster, but life at Hallam, country seat of the glamorous and renowned Hallam family, still represents the ultimate in British civilization. Teatime, with its cucumber sandwiches and cream cakes, continues as it has for a hundred years. It’s not that the Hallam family ignores the world outside its gracious doors. On the contrary, Helen and Dennis Hallam care passionately about peace and principle, and Dennis dramatically conveys these views to the nation in his controversial weekly review column. Avowed pacifists, Helen and Dennis represent a political stance that the villagers mistrust and fear. That fear and suspicion turn to nasty pranks when a sinister Fascist major gains control over some of the local youths. Helen and Dennis, and their sons Oliver and Will, become the victims of cruel taunts and the kind of teasing that leads to terror. As the Hallams and villagers grow more hostile, we see the story through the eyes of Sarah Causeley, and idealistic young woman who has recently come to be nursery governess at Hallam. To Sarah, the Hallams represent beauty, brilliance, and style—an idyllic life in the midst of chaos. But as she watches, the Hallams’ world begins to disintegrate, and a tense and unexpected encounter leads to a shocking murder. Much more than a crime novel, The Skeleton in the Grass is an extraordinary piece of fiction that captures the essence of a family that captures the essence of a family and a world on the brink of extinction. With subtlety and skill, Robert Barnard amazes with his versatility and storytelling power.

Old church meets new with a vengeance when a monk is brutally murdered at St. Botolph’s. Murder wasn’t on the agenda for the symposium on the role of the Anglican Church today—until a brother is found dead in his cell. Suddenly the diverse guest list falls under suspicion. Could it be the bishop famous for his television appearances or his exotic counterpart from Africa; one of the three vicars who run the gamut from trendy to traditional; the nondenominational American with a passion for fundraising; or perhaps one of the two Norwegian lady divines? Or is it one of the brothers themselves, taking advantage of the camouflage provided by outside visitors? Surely the tensions between the cloistered clergy and their more worldly visitors can’t have led to such an unthinkable occurrence. But why is Father Anselm, the austere head of the Anglican Community, so reluctant to allow an investigation? Is he concerned simply about unfavourable publicity? Or is there a darker secret hidden behind the inscrutable walls of St. Botolph’s? ‘Robert Barnard . . . writes with irony and wit and considerable skill and grace’ St Louis Post-Dispatch ‘A first-rate suspense story . . . highly original and entertaining.’ Booklist ‘Robert Barnard is the most reliable and versatile practitioner of English mystery-comedy on the present scene. A virtuoso . . .’ New York Times Book Review

The Burleigh school was dying. It would be called a mercy killing were it not for the little band of inept, eccentric, or otherwise unemployable teachers who depended on this absolutely awful English boys’ academy for their meagre livelihoods. A lack of funds, facilities, and foresight had brought Burleigh to the very edge of extinction. Now someone planned to give it one final, deadly push. Malice was afoot behind the ivied walls, trailing hard on the heels of Hilary Frome, Headmaster Crumwallis’s unfortunate choice for the next headboy. For when something sinister popped up in the punch on Parents’ Evening, when nasty pranks became no joke, the next event at bloody Burleigh was bound to be . . . simply murder. ‘Crackerjack entertainment . . . deserves the kind of raves heaped up on his other prize whodunits.’ Publishers Weekly ‘There is no one quite like Robert Barnard in his ability to combine chills and chuckles and to sprinkle the whole with delicious irony.’ San Diego Union ‘The wryest wit and most scathing satire in today’s mystery.’ Chicago Sun-Times

Lill Hodsden was a monster. She rode roughshod over her daughter, wiped her feet on her husband, blackmailed her lovers and smothered her sons with a mother love that left them screaming out for freedom. Lill set the hackles rising all over Todmarsh, the little South Coast town she queened it over. She was just asking to be done in. And her sons were very ready to oblige. In fact, they had it all worked out, for Saturday night. But when Lill was found garrotted on Thursday, on the way home from one of her boy-friends’, the case was wide open, and half Todmarsh would have regarded the murderer as a civic benefactor. Inspector McHale, on his first murder case, is a man who values intelligence, particularly his own. He is convinced he is going to discover the killer. But is he going to discover the right one? In the claustrophobic relationships around the appalling Lill, Robert Barnard has used his gift for creating murderable monsters to set up a murder everybody can sympathize with.

Hexton-upon-Weir was ruled by its women: they set the tone, they made the decisions, they called the tune. When they decided to band together to block the appointment of a new vicar who was not only unacceptably High Church but – of all ugly things – celibate to boot, they managed to create merry hell. As the town was riven by faction and counter-faction, Helen Kitterage tried to remain aloof, but before long she was drawn into the maelstrom, as, during the down’s fête, ill-will and conspiracy degenerated into murder. Helen was convinced that somewhere among the secrets of this murderous Cranford there must be found some key shame that someone had thought it worth killing to keep unknown. In this tart and witty updating of the traditional English village mystery, ‘the chameleon talent of Mr Barnard’ (Sunday Times) is demonstrated once again through that sharp ear and eye that led the Washington Post to exclaim: ‘One of the funniest men writing mysteries today has to be Robert Barnard.’

Upstairs, in the room looking out to sea, the old man dictates wills, leaving things he no longer has to friends who are long dead. His children, who look after him, can cope with his senility, and thought there was nothing more to learn about his erratic life-style. When Roderick Cotterel hears from his illegitimate half-sister he is intrigued, even charmed: she is the daughter of his father, the distinguished novelist Benedict Cotterel, by the famous actress Myra Mason. She is writing a book about her mother, and is looking for material. The affair between the two had been a gutter press sensation back in the ‘sixties, but the embers have long since cooled. However, when Cordelia and her boyfriend arrive and begin research for the book both Roderick and his wife begin to have doubts. And when their peaceful Sussex village is threatened by a visit from an almost suspiciously friendly Myra Mason, they realize they have got into something from which it would require superhuman delicacy and tact to extricate themselves. In the event somebody solves their problems in a way that is neither tactful nor delicate, though it certainly is final. ‘He never takes the easy path of repeating a winning formula.’ Time Magazine

A Scandal In Belgravia is a story of murder; it is also a penetrating analysis of a decaying social class and a society in transition. And it is the personal, deeply moving story of two men, Peter Proctor, recently retired as a senior British cabinet minister, and Timothy Wycliffe, a young aristocrat who was bludgeoned to death more than thirty years ago. The two had met in the early 1950s as fledgling diplomats in the Foreign Office. Wycliffe, the grandson of a marquess, had little in common with Proctor, the self-made man on his way up. But the elegant, joyful, intensely alive Wycliffe relished all kinds of people, including his very naïve and earnest middle-class colleague. The friendship was close for a while, gradually becoming more occasional. Even Wycliffe’s murder, shocking as it was, caused relatively little impact on his friends and the national press, who were distracted that week by more momentous events in the news. Only now, over three decades later, does Wycliffe’s brutal death become Proctor’s obsession. Relieved of his official post after a long and distinguished career, Proctor decides to write his memoirs. But beyond a banal chapter on his youth, nothing will come. Memories of Timothy Wycliffe take over his mind, pushing aside all other thoughts. It is only in probing the past, in tracking down the people who knew Wycliffe, in discovering the shocking truth of his murder, that Peter Proctor will find peace.

With A City of Strangers, award-winning novelist Robert Barnard, acclaimed for his quick wit and astute insight into the vagaries of class distinction and human foible, achieves a new level of mastery. He also creates one of his most memorable characters ever: the dreadful Jack Phelan. Dirty, potbellied, vulgar, selfish, Jack is a man everyone loves to hate. And the rest of his family isn’t much better. The wife is slatternly, the teenaged children flirt with petty crime and prostitution, even the baby is unpleasant. Only twelve-year-old Michael Phelan seems to have escaped the family curse, and it may be just a question of time until he, too, sinks to the Phelan level. For years the infamous Phelans, known with equal horror to the Social Security office and the local school, have lived in slovenly squalor in their council house in the run-down Belfield Grove Estate in the northern English city of Sleate. The Phelans’ infamy has even penetrated the middle-class bastion of respectability, Wynton Lane, where six imposing Victorian stone houses stand in fearful isolation next to Belfield Grove. Wynton Lane and Belfield Grove have only their unfortunate proximity in common until the fateful day when the Phelans come to call. It seems that Jack has won big on the pools, and he’s thinking of buying one of the six houses. Nothing so exciting has ever happened on Wynton Lane, and the homeowners hope it never will again. Until now barely nodding acquaintances the Wynton Lane residents call an urgent meeting to map an emergency strategy. What can they do to stop Jack Phelan? What indeed? The Wynton Lane people have always thought of themselves as law-abiding, but they soon discover that malice can take on a momentum of its own, a momentum that can even lead to murder. Shocking, mesmerizing, incisive, A City of Strangers leaves a deep impression on the reader and confirms the artistry of a superb novelist in his prime.

It was midday on December 21st in the Norwegian city of Tromsø when the boy was last seen – a tall, blond boy swathed in an anorak and scarf against the Arctic noon. He was not seen again, not until three months later, when Professor Mackenzie’s dog started sniffing around in the snow and uncovered a human ear . . . attached to a naked corpse. Nobody knew who he was, or where he had come from. And after three months it was almost impossible to track down the identity of the corpse. But Inspector Fagermo refused to give up – and as he probed deeper into the Arctic city he began to discover a dangerous conspiracy of blackmail, espionage, and cold-blooded murder. Regarded as Robert Barnard's best, Death in a Cold Climate is a scandi detective novel with a captivating mystery at its heart.

There were two Mrs Machins, relicts of the talented working-class writer Walter Machin, who was just about to be immortalised by the literary establishment. Viola was large, overbearing and, even in her seventies, still voluptuous. Hilda, the first (and divorced) Mrs Machin, was perky, sharp and the guardian of the deceased Walter’s literary papers. For ten years the two ‘widows’ had lived together in the same house, not speaking to each other, but jealously guarding his memory and literary reputation. But before the Machin legend could really take off, there was a fire – and a murder. One of the Mrs Machins was silenced for good, and slowly, from the past, emerged a fascinating and intriguing assortment of characters. Somewhere, in their memories of Walter Machin, lay the catastrophic secret that had led to murder. ‘A literary whodunit – with an unusual ending’ London Mystery Selection ‘Freshly written with lots of sly fun’ Guardian ‘Finely crafted and intriguing’ Booklist ‘A witty, well-written and intriguing story’ Times Literary Supplement

The body of a young man, almost naked, in the car park behind one of Haworth’s many eating establishments marks the beginning of the case, and it is his identity that is the first puzzle for DC Charlie Peace and his superior Detective Superintendent Oddie. But before long the puzzle that most concerns them is the nature of the close-knit artistic community where Declan O’Hearn had acted as odd-job boy. The little knot of people seem to be united less by their ability as painters than by a common worship of the distinguished artist Ranulph Byatt, who has not only brought them together, but seems to prefer the adulation of his inferiors to the judgement of his equals. Peace, searching for clues, soon starts to wonder if there isn’t a sinister reason for this. And as the search for the killer gathers pace, Peace and Oddie uncover a series of dark secrets on the harsh Haworth landscape. Atmospheric, witty and perceptive, The Corpse at the Haworth Tandoori is vintage Robert Barnard.

The disappearance from school of two apparently unconnected teenagers worries DC Charlie Peace, until he discovers that they are both working at a hostel for homeless street kids. Peace knows the life and crimes of the people these two are trying to help, and decides that, for the moment, they are safe. But will Peace have cause to regret his decision? After all, just who is the man running the hostel? And how nasty is the local opposition to the place likely to become? As the pair continue their good work, the situation at the hostel becomes even more fraught with the appearance of an Asian girl fleeing an arranged marriage. And it isn’t long before a murderous attack seems about to put an end to the whole project. ‘Nicely drawn characters’ Irish Times ‘Very appealing. . .sensitively written’ Evening Standard ‘He plots a mystery as well as any writer alive’ Time Magazine

Rosemary Sheffield has a sort of "reverse epiphany" one day while walking in the park: she no longer believes in God. This sudden loss of faith is at first entirely liberating, but the situation gradually becomes more complicated. Rosemary is, after all, the beloved wife of the vicar at St. Saviour's parish. A storm of controversy erupts in her husband's church congregation, but Rosemary, with the words "I do not believe," leaves behind the scandal and gossip for a seaside sojourn in Scarborough. Here she meets Stanko, a Bosnian refugee who illegally entered the country. But what begins as a supportive friendship launches an ungodly chain of events—and Rosemary soon finds herself back at home caught up in a murder investigation. "Barnard's trademark seamless plotting and riotous sense of humor stand out wonderfully in his latest whodunit." Booklist "His plots are downright Mozartian in their effortless complexity" New York Newsday

The Ketterick Festival revolves around the Saracen’s Head, a Jacobean inn with its inn-yard and balconies miraculously preserved intact, due to the sloth of successive landlords. Here in festival time are performed the lesser-known masterpieces of Elizabethan and Jacobean theatre. This year it is The Chaste Apprentice of Bowe (a play of uncertain authorship, since no one owned up at the time). But the actors find that the Saracen’s Head has been transformed by its new landlord – an Australian know-all with an insatiable curiosity and an instinct for power. The loathsome Des’s activities bring him into conflict with actors, committee, even the performers of Adelaide di Birckenhead, the little-known Donizetti opera that is the other lynchpin of the Festival programme. So adept is Des at fomenting friction and ferreting in the undergrowth of private lives that it is not surprising that it all ends in biers. Barnard’s festive romp spares no one in the arts world, and even suggests a solution to a long-felt operatic want, showing once again why he has been called ‘a specialist in snide japery’ (Time Magazine), whose mysteries are ‘among the best’ (New York Times).

In the late winter of 1979, Leeds housewife Ellen Heenan dies in childbirth – abandoning a guilt-stricken husband to insanity’s grasp and leaving four young children to find for themselves. Thirteen-year-old Matthew and Annie, age twelve, know what the authorities will do if the learn of Father’s debilitating madness. A close-knit family will be speedily unravelled, its threads scattered carelessly to the winds. So deception is the only recourse – a façade of normalcy that must be carefully constructed to fool prying neighbourhood eyes. And resourceful young Matthew and his sister have the situation well in hand – until a freshly slain corpse turns up beneath the kitchen window . . . ‘Gripping and satisfying’ Chicago Tribune ‘Subtle and surprising . . . Robert Barnard at his best’ San Diego Union-Tribune ‘A sad, sweet horror of a story . . . the suspense is delicious.’ New York Times Book Review

Those two days in May seem to be a highpoint in Colin Pinnock’s life: a stunning election victory, a new government, and junior office for himself. But among the many congratulations he receives is one hostile message, a grubby card asking, ‘Who do you think you are?’ Is this merely someone putting him back in his place, or do the words have a more profound meaning? And who, indeed, is he? Who were his real parents? As Colin investigates these questions he is led back in time to an old political scandal: a murder case which led to a politician’s downfall and disappearance. Events in the present, however, start tangling with those of the past, and he finds himself the object of a series of incidents that at first seem designed to bring down his career with ridicule, but later actually threaten his life. A beautifully written and intriguing mystery form one of our foremost crime writers. ‘Robert Barnard has the habit of delighting his readers’ Sunday Times

A witty and poignant chiller about the evil of gossip and the sin of indifference. Father Christopher Pardoe is a good priest. He cares about his parishioners. He is also a human being—and is thus saddled with man’s inherent weaknesses. Is it a bit odd, then, how much time the good Father has been spending at the house of a certain young, single mother called Julie Norris? And why, during each of his visits, are Julie’s bedroom curtains always closed? Julie looks to be pregnant again. Just who could that father be? As nasty rumours begin to scorch the parish phone lines, Father Pardoe is suspended from St. Catherine’s, and Cosmo Horrocks, the West Yorkshire Chronicle’s shameless, muckraking journalist, exploits the story in a big way. Nothing goes over better than a juicy sex-and-the-church scandal, except, perhaps, murder. Do Father Pardoe and Julie protest too much? Why did Julie’s parents throw her out and disown her? Is she really as bad as they say? And what, exactly, does Cosmo Horrocks hear in that London-to-Leeds dining car that makes him tingle with excitement? A tale of chastity besmirched? This story could make his year. But will it lead to tragedy? And, if so, whose? When Inspector Mike Oddie and Sergeant Charlie Peace are called in to investigate a murder, they are saddened and surprised by the raw emotions—the hate, the fear—they find in the outwardly peaceful town of Shipley. There may be only one killer, but there are many others who must share the town’s guilt and, perhaps, one day start the process of healing. Rich with eccentric characters, crisp dialogue, stylish prose, and perceptive insights into human nature, Unholy Dying is vintage Barnard, acknowledged master of suspense. ‘He plots a mystery as well as any writer alive’ Time

Radio Broadwich decides to do a documentary on the small village of Twytching for international broadcast, and the townspeople divide between those who seek the patronage of Mrs. Deborah Withins, arbiter of taste and morals, and those determined to displace her in the cutthroat contest for media recognition. When a rash of poison-pen letters and a murder coincide, quiet inspector George Parrish begins to uncover secrets the leading citizens of Twytching had thought, and fervently hoped, were buried. A Little Local Murder skilfully demonstrates that no one is more cunning than Robert Barnard in preparing the reader for the totally unexpected. And the incisive character portrayals in this early gem impart a dimension rarely found in English detective fiction. ‘Barnard’s sharp and funny style and cast of eccentric characters make a clever mystery of small-town backbiting’ Kirkus Reviews

Superintendent Perry Trethowan was used to cases that involved people in high places, and in this one he finds himself at the top of the tree – among the British royals. A Princess, albeit only a minuscule royal offshoot, with a snug little apartment in Kensington Palace and a snug little sum on the Civil List, is threatened – but by whom, why, and exactly what is uncertain. Her circle consists mostly of boy-friends, and they are a motley lot, drawn from the worlds of politics, the stage, even the football field. But are they endangered too or are they part of the threat? The Princess (fresh as morning dew, and much more treacherous) trips gaily through the minefield, while around her men keep dying. But blood will out, especially blue blood, and by the time Perry Trethowan gets to the bottom of the case, a murderer has been brought to justice and not a few reputations tremble in the scales. Robert Barnard’s ability to create entertaining plots in the classic tradition was recognised through multiple nominations for Edgar Awards in the States, and he received the 2003 CWA Cartier Diamond Dagger Award for a lifetime of achievement.

Opera singers are often described as being larger than life, and certainly this is true of Gaylene Ffrench. Her appetites—for men, for food, for attention—are gargantuan, and her ability to irritate is similarly outsized. So when someone electrocutes the bombastic Australian contralto, few tears are shed at the Northern Opera company (though it’s a pity her understudy’s so lousy). In fact, most of the company members are dancing a jig, and it falls on Superintendent Nichols to determine which of them might have helped Gaylene along to her just reward. The black tenor tired of being the butt of Gaylene’s bigotry? The soprano weary of jealous whispers in her ears? Gaylene’s many bedroom conquests, all anxious to avoid a repeat performance? With so many potential suspects, Nichols has his hands full, but Barnard and his readers have a deliciously malicious good time. ‘The wryest wit and most scathing satire’ Chicago Sun-Times ‘One of the deftest stylist in the field . . . goes about it with a quietly malicious sense of humor’ New York Times Book Review