The Red Deer in Quinster and John Melville’s regulars were sitting down to their evening meal. Unknown to most people in the room, for two of the diners, Lady Blanchflower and her friend Mrs Whitburn, it would be their last dinner together – or indeed, at all. For the next day, Lady Blanchflower is found dead, strangled in her rooms at the nearby castle. Of Mrs Whitburn, there is no sign. But why is there a man’s wig underneath Lady Blanchflower’s body?

The local dignitary insists Scotland Yard are brought in to lead the investigation, and Anthony Bathurst joins the hunt as well. But when the only clue makes no sense, and the second presumed victim can’t be found, how can even the mighty Bathurst get to the truth of the situation?

Yes, it’s my second Flynn of the month (and might not be the last). I’ve said this before, but with a lot to juggle at the mo, the old favourites are the easiest things to pass the time.

And Cauldron Bubble is the thirty-ninth book in the series, and while on the surface it sems to be a straightforward whodunit, it actually bears some resemblance in structure to my last Flynn, Where There Was Smoke. While that was the story of an investigation with no “who” in the mystery at all, here we do have a whodunit, but the important information comes late in the day. Like some of the later titles, such as Out Of The Dusk and The Seventh Sign, what we have here is Bathurst relying on his instincts and guesswork to try and move the case forward. And try is operative word here, as he does get a lot of things wrong.

I’m not entirely sure if the reader is expected to solve the mystery before Bathurst, as it’s not a case of him missing a clue, it’s a case of the clue not existing until we are told it. So we get to see a more fallible Bathurst – he doesn’t seem to get as frustrated as he does when up against the serial killer of The Seventh Sign, but he does acknowledge that he’s running out of chances.

I would say as well that Flynn does use a misdirection early on that verges on the sort of thing that John Dickson Carr would do when he was being very naughty. Not sure if this was deliberate in this case, but it is pretty odd.

All in all, though, while this might not be as complex a plot as, say, Men For Pieces, it’s another entertaining read, nonetheless.