In Dead Men Don't Ski, she introduces Inspector Henry Tibbett, a blissfully ordinary English copper with a pleasantly plump wife and a nose for the bad guys. Sadly for Henry (but happily for us) that nose has a knack of ruining his vacations. In Dead Men, he and Emmy are headed for the Italian Dolomites, ready for a spot of skiing and some first-class people-watching, all those athletic youngsters in their swanky late-1950s ski outfits. It's all very...

Amazingly enough, Henry Tibbett is at work. Crime tends to catch him when he's on vacation, but this time around Henry's at a coppers' conference, an international effort intended to stop drug-smuggling. The conference is in Switzerland (for a Scotland Yard detective, Henry does manage to get around.) and the always sensible Emmy has come along for the parties and the chocolate. It's a glittering whirl of attractive folks in their best early-1960s...

Rich, aristocratic, and at the heart of swinging London, "Pudge" Coombe-Peters has everything except a decent nickname. And in fact, he has two special attributes: He owns the narration-the drawling, deliciously snobbish, all-but-impossibly irritating narration-of Falling Star, and he has a chum named Henry Tibbett, who comes in just awfully handy when people start dying on the set of the film that Pudge is producing. Tibbett is especially welcome...

An Inspector Tibbetts mystery "which only serves to prove how ingeniously well Patricia Moyes is keeping up her variations on the classical whodunit" (The Sun). Think the Country-House Murder is a relic of the 1930s? Think again, and say hello to the Manciples, exactly the kind of eccentric family you'd like to see lording it over your little English village. Sadly, the Manciples' day as lords of the manor may be winding down: A certain Mr. Mason-a...

One of the oddities of Golden Age fiction was its fixation on the occult and the generally weird-ancient gypsy curses, haunted burial grounds, etc. It's therefore something of a relief to settle in with the refreshingly literal Ms. Moyes: When a title refers to a third dog, we are not talking about some metaphysical barking: There were three dogs and now one is missing. Up in arms about this is Emmy Tibbett's sister Jane, a stalwart of the animal-rights...

What would you do if a U.S. Senator was found murdered with a machete on the grounds of your exclusive golf club in the Caribbean? Maybe order another umbrella drink and work on your tan... or if you're John and Margaret Colville, the owners of a modest hotel on the island of St. Matthews, call your friends, Inspector Henry Tibbett and his wife Emmy, to investigate. Did the friendly young islander who tends bar for the Colvilles commit murder? The...

Fans of Emmy Tibbett, have we got the book for you! Vacationing with friends in the Caribbean, Emmy and Henry meet a sprightly and delightful spinster who spins a yarn about a young woman lost at sea and then (perhaps) found again. The yarn gets yet more fascinating when the spinster herself disappears, and Henry-wry, unflappable Henry Tibbett of Scotland Yard-responds in a most uncharacteristic fashion. It's up to Emmy to untangle the clues, contending...

Scotland Yard's Henry Tibbett and his beloved Emmy have been traveling and are now headed back to England, where Henry is on the ferry out of Harwich. It's a trip Emmy's been looking forward to-but her excitement flags when it becomes clear that the cabins are all spoken for, and she and Henry will have to bed down in the "sleeping lounge" with a motley collection of their fellow travelers. By morning, one traveler has lost both his life and his fortune...

Mr. and Mrs. Tibbetts pop into a pub for lunch but get served a murder case in this novel with "all the proper ingredients for a cozy whodunit" (The New York Times). What could be more delightful than a long-forgotten relative who dies and leaves you a tidbit in his will? How about if that tidbit is in fact a charming country pub, and that pub is now yours-lock, stock, and barrels of beer? Susan Gardiner is delighted, even when it becomes...