Donald Finney, a chemist, was presented with a mysterious opportunity for some work. The mysterious Mr Reheboam offers him a fortune – £100 – for a single night’s work. But that is the last night’s work of Finney’s life as he is soon found dead.

The cause of death is far from clear – there are no wounds on his body, but his skin is strangely discoloured – but the strangest thing is what was found on his body. Or to be precise, what was found in his belly button. A strange note with the name of a local police inspector – and a piece of cooked bacon rind…

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Well, it’s been a while since I went back to dear old Brian Flynn – you know, that chap who I’ve managed to get thirty-five of his mystery novels reprinted courtesy of Dean Street Press – but I’ve had a bit of a rotten time of it the past few weeks, so I thought I’d look at one of the books that hasn’t been reprinted and that I had less-than-stellar memories of. Although re-reading my review, it would seem that the memory has cheated a tad.

The issue, I suppose, was that it’s not a whodunit at all. As I said the first time I reviewed it, it’s the story of an investigation into a crime. There’s a really impressive section where Bathurst deduces a fair bit of what happened to Finney just from the note found in his navel, and to be honest, the reader could have worked out a chunk of it. But going into it knowing what sort of mystery it is made me appreciate it more.

It’s a “what is going on” story and while it’s a story of its time, it’s not something where the MacGuffin has dated like Conspiracy At Angel. There’s a strong background of post-war austerity – was it really a case that sausages were available but bacon wasn’t? – and the semi-recurring Constable Chatterton has some good lines when sparring with Bathurst and MacMorran.

There’s a slightly odd conclusion where, basically, Bathurst messes up quite a bit, but this is a very interesting read. It’s never going to make a Flynn Top Ten list from me, but it was definitely worth a re-read, and therefore, if you haven’t read it, a read. Shame the only copy that I’ve ever seen for sale is sitting on the sofa next to me… sorry.