Christopher Bush

We've got to have a body.That's what what detective Ludovic Travers says, after being contacted by one Lord Tynworth. Tynworth's wife has vanished and his lordship wants her found - yet strangely doesn't seem especially keen on getting her back. When Travers walks into the case, he enters a hall of mirrors. In it are thoroughbred horses, their trainers, at least one man determined not to tell the truth . . . and a burnt corpse.The missing woman is a former crooner, and once again Travers must investigate the world of showbusiness on his way to discovering the truth. Meanwhile the cash-strapped Tynworth disappears to America - and then just disappears entirely. Travers narrowly escapes with his life before he brings the diabolical affair to a head, and solves the case.The Case of the Benevolent Bookie was originally published in 1955. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans."A provocative puzzle" New York Times

Providence, they say, is good to drunkards and children. Maybe there's a third category--the unorthodox detective.A new case finds Ludovic Travers travelling to the respectable English Midlands town of Mainford. He is commissioned to investigate the death, under compromising circumstances, of Harry Landlace--a man of civic virtue. There is the suggestion of a smear and as Travers attempts to clear Landlace's name, he uncovers something the dead man was on the verge of revealing. Is it to do with the undercover gambling syndicate Travers comes upon, or the youth club with which the deceased was closely involved? Travers is relentless in pursuit of the guilty party--or parties. But the case will not end before more than one person have met their deaths.The Case of the Red Brunette was originally published in 1954. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans."Mr. Bush has an urbane and intelligent way of dealing with mystery." Leo Bruce

His head went sideways, like a hopping sparrow's on a lawn.The man who saves Henry Clandon's life during the campaign in Sicily visits him once in hospital, gives his name as David Seeway, makes vague and apparently pointless reference to somebody else called Archie Dibben and a country town called Bassingford, and then virtually disappears. Eight years later, Henry Clandon, now a director of a London publishing firm, sets out to try and find his rescuer.This is how he comes to be shown into Ludovic Travers' office at the Broad Street Detective Agency. Something about the case provokes Travers into following a trail by way of dusty newspaper files and the intricacies of theatrical gossip, to a pleasantly prosperous house in which a gentleman of military aspect had just died with his boots on. Travers polishes his spectacles and puts through a phone call to George Wharton at the Yard, for now there is a taker as well as a saver of life to find.The Case of the Counterfeit Colonel was originally published in 1952. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans."Bush gets better and better . . . And Ludovic Travers is becoming one of our favourite sleuths" San Francisco Chronicle

Isn't it a tremendous coincidence that his murderer should also have had large front teeth?Ludovic Travers has received a good many queer requests and enquiries at the Broad Street Detective Agency, but a psychiatrist in fear of his life and in search of a bodyguard is something new. An appointment is made for the following day, but Travers has barely completed a few discreet enquiries concerning his new client when he receives another call. This time it is a summons from George Wharton of Scotland Yard. Would he please come to a flat in Chelsea where an artist has just been stabbed, and an attempt made to destroy evidence by burning the body.It looks like a routine matter till suddenly the long arm of coincidence stretches out and ties the Cases of the Nervous Psychiatrist and the Burnt Bohemian into one knot of Gordian complexity. Christopher Bush is a proven master of the true detective story, and in this one he is at his urbanely intriguing and ingenious best.The Case of the Burnt Bohemian was originally published in 1953. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans."Yet another sound piece of work . . . in that, alas , almost extinct genre, the real detective story, with Ludovic Travers in his very best form." Anthony Berkeley

I liked him. When I heard of his death I was quite upset.Henry Baldlow is a nervous man. An apparent invalid, he plans to emigrate for his health, yet claims to require a detective to guard his life in the interim. Ludovic Travers isn't initially convinced, but when one of his operatives turns up dead, and then Baldlow himself, he takes charge. A series of visitors were asked to call at specific times on the afternoon of Baldlow's death--was one of these the culprit? Investigating the case entails Travers reluctantly romancing a femme fatale, peeking in at the jewellery business, and exploring the murky world of show-business, before he brings the crime home to the murderer.The Case of the Three Lost Letters was originally published in 1954. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans."A model detective story on classical lines: an original central idea, with a complicated plot to clothe it, plenty of sound, straightforward detection by a mellowed Ludovic Travers and never a word that is not strictly relevant to the story." Anthony Berkeley"A beautifully quiet, close-knit problem in deduction very fairly presented and impeccably solved." Sunday Times

It wasn't I who discovered the body. I want to make that perfectly clear, if only for the benefit of a couple of club acquaintances of mine.Ludovic Travers, special investigator for Scotland Yard, commits murder? No--but at the end of this novel you will understand why he might claim to have done so.Sir William Pelle has become a missing person, and Superintendent Wharton of the Yard is prioritizing his recovery. But when Pelle is found murdered, there are serious questions to answer. Was the well-to-do jewellery-handler the victim of a well-planned robbery? And why was the corpse partly covered in sugar?Several of the enigmatic figures formerly surrounding the deceased are going to repay close scrutiny; as is the importance of the army corporal who keeps weaving in and out of the story. It will take all Travers's customary acuity to bring the case to a successful conclusion--and eventually to explain his assertion of committing murder himself.The Case of the Corporal's Leave was originally published in 1945. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans.

"Good God " I was staring like a lunatic. "Murdered, you say? When?""Less than half an hour ago, sir."TRAVERS: "I don't know why I should call this case that of the Magic Mirror for there's nothing in it reminiscent of "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs," even if the mirror did do a certain amount of magical revelation."As a matter of fact the title is my obstinate own. In the first place, of the many murder cases with which I have been officially connected, this one which I am about to relate was easily the most unusual. On the face of it one could at first hardly call it a case at all, for its solution presented no difficulties. Then curious doubts arose, and the obvious was far from what it seemed, and finally the whole thing seemed incapable of any solution at all. Then when the solution did come, it was so absurdly simple that one doubted one's sanity for not having seen it from the very first."The Case of the Magic Mirror was originally published in 1943. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans.

As Travers's finger touched the dead hand, he felt the warmth, and wondered if the man were still alive. Then he saw the knife that stuck sideways in the ribs.It was three years after Ludovic Travers had acquired a painting by the famous contemporary French artist, Henri Larne, that a mysterious art dealer named Braque turned up, showed great interest in the picture, and invited Travers to visit him in Paris. But all Travers saw of Braque in Paris was his dead body: a knife-almost warm from the murderer's hand--was stuck in his ribs.Travers and his old friend Inspector Gallois soon found some very pertinent questions to answer. What was Braque's "gold mine"? Why had he been so interested in paintings by Larne? What were his relations with Pierre Larne, and with Elise, the model? But not until Travers suddenly realised the significance of the flying donkey was the murderer's astonishing identity revealed.The Case of the Flying Donkey was originally published in 1939. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans.

"It's about a murder. . . . Here. Five Oaks, they call it. . . . A man, he's murdered. . . . Oh, no, it isn't a joke. I wish it was. . . . I said I wished it was. . . . You'll send someone at once?"Ludovic Travers, still in the army, is obliged to combine his military duties with being an invaluable private sleuth on behalf of Scotland Yard. Now Inspector Wharton has asked Ludo to track down a man in a village rife with blackmail and skulduggery. A problem soon arises however--murder, and that of the very man Travers was sent to find. Travers eventually faces a moral quandary about what to conceal and what to reveal about his discoveries--which could lead to someone's execution.This classic English village murder mystery involves a large number of suspects, and a breathtaking series of twists, some if not all involving the Chief Constable's wife--the novel's "platinum blonde."The Case of the Platinum Blonde was originally published in 1944. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans."Readers who have asked 'Why' impatiently at the beginning of this book will be twice shy." Times Literary Supplement