Whose Body?: A Lord Peter Wimsey Mystery

By Dorothy L. Sayers and Chris Willis

Dorothy L. Sayer’s first novel, Whose Body?, introduced the world to the aristocratic crime fighter Lord Peter Wimsey, who featured in fourteen subsequent novels and short stories. Athletic, scholarly, stylish and sharp, Lord Peter Wimsey became one of the most popular and beloved heroes of the genre. In Wimsey’s first case,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Warbler Classics
• Release date: Sep 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733561693

Dorothy L. Sayers

Dorothy L. Sayers (1893–1957) was a British playwright, scholar, and acclaimed author of mysteries, best known for her books starring the gentleman sleuth Lord Peter Wimsey. While working as an advertising copywriter, Sayers began writing Whose Body? (1923), the first Wimsey mystery, followed by ten sequels and several short stories. Sayers set the Wimsey novels between the two World Wars, giving them a realistic tone by incorporating details from contemporary issues such as advertising, women’s education, and veterans’ health. Sayers also wrote theological essays and criticism during and after World War II, and in 1949 published the first volume of a translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Although she considered this translation to be her best work, it is for her elegantly constructed detective fiction that Sayers remains best remembered.

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Dorothy L. Sayers

Dorothy L. Sayers (1893-1957) is widely considered one of the greatest mystery writers of all time. She is best known for her creation of Lord Peter Wimsey, one of the most beloved amateur sleuths of the genre. She was also a poet, a student of classical and modern languages and theology, as well as an essayist, playwright, critic, and translator.

She was born in Oxford on June 13, 1893, the only child of the Rev. Henry Sayers, of Anglo-Irish descent. Her father was at the time headmaster of Christ Church Cathedral School, and she was born in the headmaster’s house. She was brought up at Bluntisham Rectory, Cambridgeshire, and went to the Godolphin School, Salisbury, where she won a scholarship to Somerville College, Oxford. In 1915, she graduated with first class honors in modern languages. Disliking the routine and seclusion of academic life she joined Blackwell’s, the Oxford publishers, worked with her Oxford friend Eric Whelpton at L’École des Roches in Normandy, and from 1922 until 1929 served as copywriter at the London advertising firm of Bensons.

In 1923, she published her first novel, Whose Body?, which introduced Lord Peter Wimsey, her hero for fourteen volumes of novels and short stories. She also wrote four other novels in collaboration and two serial stories for broadcasting. Once she turned to writing full time she rose to be the doyen of crime writers and in due course president of the Detection Club. Her work, carefully researched and widely varied, included poetry, the editing of collections with introductions on the genre, and the translating of the Tristan of Thomas from mediaeval French. She numbered among her friends T. S. Eliot, Charles Williams, and C. S. Lewis.

She married Arthur Fleming in 1926. In 1928, her father died at Christchurch in the Fens, his last parish, and she bought a cottage at Witham, Essex, to accommodate her mother. On the latter’s death a year later she moved in herself, bought the house next door, joined the two houses, and lived there until her own death in 1957.

Gaudy Night was to be the culmination of the Wimsey saga, but her friend Muriel St. Clare Byrne persuaded her to collaborate in putting Lord Peter on the stage in Busman’s Honeymoon. The play was successfully launched in December 1936, and she gave up crime writing except for the book of the play and three short stories. With her new financial security she returned to the work for which she had been trained. In 1952, Sayers said, One of the reasons I no longer write detective stories is the income tax. Anything that is liable to sell well may be ruinous.

After the war she taught herself old Italian and produced an enduring translation Dante’s Divine Comedy. She also completed her translation of the Song of Roland from the old French. She died suddenly from heart failure on December 17, 1957, at the age of 64.

WHOSE BODY?

First Warbler Classics Edition 2019

First published by T. Fisher Unwin 1923

www.warblerpress.com

isbn

978-1-7335616-8-6 (paperback)

isbn 978-1-7335616-9-3

(e-book)

A Lord Peter Wimsey Mystery

WHOSE BODY?

Dorothy L. Sayers

To M. J.

Dear Jim:

This book is your fault. If it had not been for your brutal insistence, Lord Peter would never have staggered through to the end of this enquiry. Pray consider that he thanks you with his accustomed suavity.

Yours ever,

D. L. S.

contents

Dorothy L. Sayers i

CHAPTER I 1

CHAPTER II 12

CHAPTER III 27

CHAPTER IV 38

CHAPTER V 57

CHAPTER VI 77

CHAPTER VII 100

CHAPTER VIII 114

CHAPTER IX 121

CHAPTER X 132

CHAPTER XI 148

CHAPTER XII 158

CHAPTER XIII 165

The Great Detectives: Lord Peter Wimsey 181

WHOSE BODY?

CHAPTER I

oh, damn! said Lord Peter Wimsey at Piccadilly Circus. Hi, driver!

The taxi man, irritated at receiving this appeal while negotiating the intricacies of turning into Lower Regent Street across the route of a 19 ’bus, a 38-B and a bicycle, bent an unwilling ear.

I’ve left the catalogue behind, said Lord Peter deprecatingly. Uncommonly careless of me. D’you mind puttin’ back to where we came from?

To the Savile Club, sir?

No—110 Piccadilly—just beyond—thank you.

Thought you was in a hurry, said the man, overcome with a sense of injury.

I’m afraid it’s an awkward place to turn in, said Lord Peter, answering the thought rather than the words. His long, amiable face looked as if it had generated spontaneously from his top hat, as white maggots breed from Gorgonzola.

The taxi, under the severe eye of a policeman, revolved by slow jerks, with a noise like the grinding of teeth.

The block of new, perfect and expensive flats in which Lord Peter dwelt upon the second floor, stood directly opposite the Green Park, in a spot for many years occupied by the skeleton of a frustrate commercial enterprise.

As Lord Peter let himself in he heard his man’s voice in the library, uplifted in that throttled stridency peculiar to well-trained persons using the telephone.

I believe that’s his lordship just coming in again—if your Grace would kindly hold the line a moment.

What is it, Bunter?

Her Grace has just called up from Denver, my lord. I was just saying your lordship had gone to the sale when I heard your lordship’s latchkey.

Thanks, said Lord Peter; and you might find me my catalogue, would you? I think I must have left it in my bedroom, or on the desk.

He sat down to the telephone with an air of leisurely courtesy, as though it were an acquaintance dropped in for a chat.

Hullo, Mother—that you?

Oh, there you are, dear, replied the voice of the Dowager Duchess. I was afraid I’d just missed you.

Well, you had, as a matter of fact. I’d just started off to Brocklebury’s sale to pick up a book or two, but I had to come back for the catalogue. What’s up?

Such a quaint thing, said the Duchess. I thought I’d tell you. You know little Mr. Thipps?

Thipps? said Lord Peter. Thipps? Oh, yes, the little architect man who’s doing the church roof. Yes. What about him?

Mrs. Throgmorton’s just been in, in quite a state of mind.

Sorry, Mother, I can’t hear. Mrs. Who?

Throgmorton—Throgmorton—the vicar’s wife.

Oh, Throgmorton, yes?

Mr. Thipps rang them up this morning. It was his day to come down, you know.

Yes?

He rang them up to say he couldn’t. He was so upset, poor little man. He’d found a dead body in his bath.

Sorry, Mother, I can’t hear; found what, where?

A dead body, dear, in his bath.

What?—no, no, we haven’t finished. Please don’t cut us off. Hullo! Hullo! Is that you, Mother? Hullo!—Mother!—Oh, yes—sorry, the girl was trying to cut us off. What sort of body?

A dead man, dear, with nothing on but a pair of pince-nez. Mrs. Throgmorton positively blushed when she was telling me. I’m afraid people do get a little narrow-minded in country vicarages.

Well, it sounds a bit unusual. Was it anybody he knew?

No, dear, I don’t think so, but, of course, he couldn’t give her many details. She said he sounded quite distracted. He’s such a respectable little man—and having the police in the house and so on, really worried him.

Poor little Thipps! Uncommonly awkward for him. Let’s see, he lives in Battersea, doesn’t he?

Yes, dear; 59, Queen Caroline Mansions; opposite the Park. That big block just round the corner from the Hospital. I thought perhaps you’d like to run round and see him and ask if there’s anything we can do. I always thought him a nice little man.

Oh, quite, said Lord Peter, grinning at the telephone. The Duchess was always of the greatest assistance to his hobby of criminal investigation, though she never alluded to it, and maintained a polite fiction of its nonexistence.

What time did it happen, Mother?

I think he found it early this morning, but, of course, he didn’t think of telling the Throgmortons just at first. She came up to me just before lunch—so tiresome, I had to ask her to stay. Fortunately, I was alone. I don’t mind being bored myself, but I hate having my guests bored.

Poor old Mother! Well, thanks awfully for tellin’ me. I think I’ll send Bunter to the sale and toddle round to Battersea now an’ try and console the poor little beast. So-long.

Good-bye, dear.

Bunter!

Yes, my lord.

Her Grace tells me that a respectable Battersea architect has discovered a dead man in his bath.

Indeed, my lord? That’s very gratifying.

Very, Bunter. Your choice of words is unerring. I wish Eton and Balliol had done as much for me. Have you found the catalogue?

Here it is, my lord.

"Thanks. I am going to Battersea at once. I want you to attend the sale for me. Don’t lose time—I don’t want to miss the Folio Dante* nor the de Voragine—here you are—see? ‘Golden Legend’—Wynkyn de Worde, 1493—got that?—and, I say, make a special effort for the Caxton folio of the ‘Four Sons of Aymon’—it’s the 1489 folio and unique. Look! I’ve marked the lots I want, and put my outside offer against each. Do your best for me. I shall be back to dinner."

Very good, my lord.

Take my cab and tell him to hurry. He may for you; he doesn’t like me very much. Can I, said Lord Peter, looking at himself in the eighteenth-century mirror over the mantelpiece, "can I have the heart to fluster the flustered Thipps further—that’s very difficult to say quickly—by appearing in a top-hat and frock-coat? I think not. Ten to one he will overlook my trousers and mistake me for the undertaker. A grey suit, I fancy, neat but not gaudy, with a hat to tone, suits my other self better. Exit the amateur of first editions; new motive introduced by solo bassoon; enter Sherlock Holmes, disguised as a walking gentleman. There goes Bunter. Invaluable fellow—never offers to do his job when you’ve told him to do somethin’ else. Hope he doesn’t miss the ‘Four Sons of Aymon.’ Still, there is another copy of that—in the Vatican.** It might become available, you

never know—if the Church of Rome went to pot or Switzerland invaded Italy—whereas a strange corpse doesn’t turn up in a suburban bathroom more than once in a lifetime—at least, I should think not—at any rate, the number of times it’s happened, with a pince-nez, might be counted on the fingers of one hand, I imagine. Dear me! it’s a dreadful mistake to ride two hobbies at once."

He had drifted across the passage into his bedroom, and was changing with a rapidity one might not have expected from a man of his mannerisms. He selected a dark-green tie to match his socks and tied it accurately without hesitation or the slightest compression of his lips; substituted a pair of brown shoes for his black ones, slipped a monocle into a breast pocket, and took up a beautiful Malacca walking-stick with a heavy silver knob.

That’s all, I think, he murmured to himself. Stay—I may as well have you—you may come in useful—one never knows. He added a flat silver matchbox to his equipment, glanced at his watch, and seeing that it was already a quarter to three, ran briskly downstairs, and, hailing a taxi, was carried to Battersea Park.

Mr. Alfred Thipps was a small, nervous man, whose flaxen hair was beginning to abandon the unequal struggle with destiny. One might say that his only really marked feature was a large bruise over the left eyebrow, which gave him a faintly dissipated air incongruous with the rest of his appearance. Almost in the same breath with his first greeting, he made a self-conscious apology for it, murmuring something about having run against the dining-room door in the dark. He was touched almost to tears by Lord Peter’s thoughtfulness and condescension in calling.

I’m sure it’s most kind of your lordship, he repeated for the dozenth time, rapidly blinking his weak little eyelids. I appreciate it very deeply, very deeply, indeed, and so would Mother, only she’s so deaf, I don’t like to trouble you with making her understand. It’s been very hard all day, he added, with the policemen in the house and all this commotion. It’s what Mother and me have never been used to, always living very retired, and it’s most distressing to a man of regular habits, my lord, and reely, I’m almost thankful Mother doesn’t understand, for I’m sure it would worry her terribly if she was to know about it. She was upset at first, but she’s made up some idea of her own about it now, and I’m sure it’s all for the best.

The old lady who sat knitting by the fire nodded grimly in response to a look from her son.

I always said as you ought to complain about that bath, Alfred, she said suddenly, in the high, piping voice peculiar to the deaf, and it’s to be ’oped the landlord’ll see about it now; not but what I think you might have managed without having the police in, but there! you always were one to make a fuss about a little thing, from chicken-pox up.

There now, said Mr. Thipps apologetically, you see how it is. Not but what it’s just as well she’s settled on that, because she understands we’ve locked up the bathroom and don’t try to go in there. But it’s been a terrible shock to me, sir—my lord, I should say, but there! my nerves are all to pieces. Such a thing has never ’appened—happened to me in all my born days. Such a state I was in this morning—I didn’t know if I was on my head or my heels—I reely didn’t, and my heart not being too strong, I hardly knew how to get out of that horrid room and telephone for the police. It’s affected me, sir, it’s affected me, it reely has—I couldn’t touch a bit of breakfast, nor lunch neither, and what with telephoning and putting off clients and interviewing people all morning, I’ve hardly known what to do with myself.

I’m sure it must have been uncommonly distressin’, said Lord Peter, sympathetically, especially comin’ like that before breakfast. Hate anything tiresome happenin’ before breakfast. Takes a man at such a confounded disadvantage, what?

That’s just it, that’s just it, said Mr. Thipps, eagerly. When I saw that dreadful thing lying there in my bath, mother-naked, too, except for a pair of eyeglasses, I assure you, my lord, it regularly turned my stomach, if you’ll excuse the expression. I’m not very strong, sir, and I get that sinking feeling sometimes in the morning, and what with one thing and another I ’ad—had to send the girl for a stiff brandy, or I don’t know what mightn’t have happened. I felt so queer, though I’m anything but partial to spirits as a rule. Still, I make it a rule never to be without brandy in the house, in case of emergency, you know?

Very wise of you, said Lord Peter, cheerfully. You’re a very far-seein’ man, Mr. Thipps. Wonderful what a little nip’ll do in case of need, and the less you’re used to it the more good it does you. Hope your girl is a sensible young woman, what? Nuisance to have women faintin’ and shriekin’ all over the place.

Oh, Gladys is a good girl, said Mr. Thipps, very reasonable indeed. She was shocked, of course; that’s very understandable. I was shocked myself, and it wouldn’t be proper in a young woman not to be shocked under the circumstances, but she is reely a helpful, energetic girl in a crisis, if you understand me. I consider myself very fortunate these days to have got a good, decent girl to do for me and Mother, even though she is a bit careless and forgetful about little things, but that’s only natural. She was very sorry indeed about having left the bathroom window open, she reely was, and though I was angry at first, seeing what’s come of it, it wasn’t anything to speak of, not in the ordinary way, as you might say. Girls will forget things, you know, my lord, and reely she was so distressed I didn’t like to say too much to her. All I said was: ‘It might have been burglars,’ I said, ‘remember that, next time you leave a window open all night; this time it was a dead man,’ I said, ‘and that’s unpleasant enough, but next time it might be burglars,’ I said, ‘and all of us murdered in our beds.’ But the police-inspector—Inspector Sugg, they called him, from the Yard—he was very sharp with her, poor girl. Quite frightened her, and made her think he suspected her of something, though what good a body could be to her, poor girl, I can’t imagine, and so I told the Inspector. He was quite rude to me, my lord—I may say I didn’t like his manner at all. ‘If you’ve got anything definite to accuse Gladys or me of, Inspector,’ I said to him, ‘bring it forward, that’s what you have to do,’ I said, ‘but I’ve yet to learn that you’re paid to be rude to a gentleman in his own ’ouse—house.’ Reely, said Mr. Thipps, growing quite pink on the top of his head, he regularly roused me, regularly roused me, my lord, and I’m a mild man as a rule.

Sugg all over, said Lord Peter. I know him. When he don’t know what else to say, he’s rude. Stands to reason you and the girl wouldn’t go collectin’ bodies. Who’d want to saddle himself with a body? Difficulty’s usually to get rid of ’em. Have you got rid of this one yet, by the way?

It’s still in the bathroom, said Mr. Thipps. Inspector Sugg said nothing was to be touched till his men came in to move it. I’m expecting them at any time. If it would interest your lordship to have a look at it—

Thanks awfully, said Lord Peter. I’d like to very much, if I’m not puttin’ you out.

Not at all, said Mr. Thipps. His manner as he led the way along the passage convinced Lord Peter of two things—first, that, gruesome as his exhibit was, he rejoiced in the importance it reflected upon himself and

Reviews for Whose Body?

[litalex · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the first mystery that I figured out the killer and the method of body disposal before the end. Though the author was pretty explicit by then.Good book.

[crazybatcow · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It was written in the 1920s. By a woman. So...
Yeah, there are dated concepts (read: racist), but I suppose that is par for the course in its era. The alternative would be to not have early detective fiction written by a woman, so...
I had to ignore the jarring I experienced with every racist reference in order to appreciate the difficulty Sayers must have faced in order to write for a living, as a woman, in the early 20th century. I suppose it also mocks British aristocracy ... and the main character (Peter) is a bit of an asshat and, normally, I would not read books with such an asshat main character because I find him so grating. But, again, that's probably partially due to the era, and partially due to Sayers' apparent interest in mockery, which is actually why I could bear to follow the asshat's story at all - because I chose to believe it was written that way intentionally.

[thebooksofwrath · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

It feels a little unpolished, with serrated edges here and there without the Agatha Christie flair, but I suppose that's to be expected with a debut. It is still a shrewdly conceived plot nevertheless, though the conclusion might easily be surmised early (*potential spoiler) on if you pay close attention to what Sayer's has to leave out about the body's appearance (due to censorship), which indefinitely connects the two cases. I had a rough time getting used to Sayer's attempts at Wodehousian dialogue and her brusque descriptions, and I could not help wincing every time the Peter/Bunter duo fell short of the inimitable Jeeves and Wooster. All in all, an average feat by Miss Sayers.

[streamsong_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the first of the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries. Lord Peter is a moneyed gentleman about town who enjoys dabbling in mysteries but also occasionally suffers bouts of ‘nerve exhaustion’ from fighting in WWI.

In this first installment, a gentleman wakes up to find an unknown, thoroughly naked dead body in his bathtub. Lord Wimsey takes on finding the how, why and who. He is aided by his friend, Detective Parker of Scotland Yard who is coincidentally missing an esteemed Jewish financier – and although the easy solution, embraced by the bungling Inspector Sugg, is that the two are the same, Wimsey soon proves this wrong, but continues to search for a connection in the cases.

We also meet Wimsey’s amazingly competent valet Bunter, who along with Wimsey’s mother, are excellent minor characters.

It took me a while to engage with the plot, but the characters drew me in.

I’ll be back for more.

[leslie398 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

2020 reread via audiobook narrated by Ian Carmichael.
I love this series and have read it multiple times since I was introduced to it in my youth. This time I listened to the audiobook instead of reading it since I found an audiobook that was narrated by Ian Carmichael. I loved his narration & the mystery was pleasantly complex enough that I could be entertained even though I clearly remembered the solution.

[fuzzi_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

An above-average mystery set in post WWI England, with Lord Peter Wimsey playing amateur sleuth. The mystery is interesting, but the interplay of Wimsey and other characters like his valet Bunter are what makes this more than just another murder whodunit.

[thornton37814 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

In this first Lord Peter Wimsey mystery, his mother interests him in a case in which a corpse is found in a man's bathtub. Then his friend Detective Parker of Scotland Yard seeks his assistance in locating a missing man. Although Inspector Sugg suggested the man in the tub and Levy were one and the same, Detective Parker and Lord Peter knew evidence suggested otherwise. While the book is well-plotted, the writing style takes a while to engage the reader. I listened to the version read by Nadia May, a pseudonym for Wanda McCaddon. She read a bit more rapidly in places than the ideal speed.

[zhoud2005 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very happy to discover Dorothy L. Sayers, a true master of classic cozy mystery.

[ashleytylerjohn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Delightful to rediscover Lord Peter Wimsey. This was a surprisingly grisly murder, once all was said and done, but not too much for my delicate sensibilities, thank goodness. Although I can recall have a marked preference for the novels which Harriet Vane appeared in, this was an awfully fun read, it went very quickly, all the characters seemed delightfully differentiated, and I'm so pleased to get to read them all again.

(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful. I'm fairly good at picking for myself so end up with a lot of 4s).

[casualfriday_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The body of the title is a naked (except for a pair of glasses) corpse lounging in someone's bathtub. Indeed, who is it? A Jewish business man who has been reported missing? The corpse looks Jewish, but doesn't look like a business man.
I downloaded this audio book from my library's Hoopla account, and I did it by accident: I thought it was the first Harriet Vane book, Strong Poison. Instead, it was the first Peter Wimsey book, and like many first books in a series, it lacks the richness of later books and was much more of a simple puzzle-mystery. Still, Wimsey was Wimsey from the start, a brilliant and sensitive man disguised as an upper-class twit. It's amusing just to hear him speak, and his banter with Bunter is delicious.

[sheiladeeth_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Whose Body is the first of Dorothy Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries. The book is shorter than later novels in the series, but it stands the test of time well, told with beautifully English voice, combining good manners and bad deeds in a truly enticing blend, and introducing a great protagonist. Lord Peter proves he loves books, reveals his wounded WWI psyche, and retires to his country home… but first there’s a body to be buried and a name to be given. There’s satisfaction in following the arguments, guessing their resolutions, and seeing the pleasing interactions whereby the truth will be revealed. Great characters, great time and place, and the promise of much much more to come.
Disclosure: As a treat, I’ve decided to read all the Lord Peter Wimsey novels in order, so this is where I start, and I’m enjoying the ride.

[margaretfield · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

naked body with only pince eres found in bath tub, Lord Peter Wimsey series

[hopeevey · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Why haven't I read Sayers before? This is so good!!!

[cbl_tn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In his first novel, Lord Peter Wimsey is called on to solve the mystery of a corpse found in the bathtub of a middle-class couple's apartment. The man was a stranger to the homeowners. The police are also investigating the disappearance of financier Sir Reuben Levy. If the man in the bath was Sir Reuben, that would tie both cases together. Wimsey can see that it's not going to be that easy...

This is one of the classics from the Golden Age of mystery. The plot and solution are clever, but it relies too much on the confession/disclosure of the murderer. It's been years since I read any of the Wimsey novels, and I had either forgotten or overlooked the first time around that Wimsey suffered from post-traumatic stress from his World War I service.

[laytonwoman3rd · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

When a mysterious naked body turns up in a bathtub, and a prominent Jewish businessman disappears, Lord Peter tries to put one and one together. He comes to the right conclusion, without any red herrings, (he leaves those to the police, in classic fashion) but it is a bit daunting to follow his reasoning. This was my first Lord Peter Whimsey outing. I was surprised at his character, which struck me as somewhere between Sherlock Holmes and Bertie Wooster, with a hint of American sloppiness of speech thrown in. I see that it was also Sayers' first novel, and other readers have noted that she refined his character over time. That being the case, I may try another. I hope she also cast aside the unmistakable anti-Semitism that stains this story. I thought I was missing something of Wimsey's back story until I realized this was the earliest of his adventures. I can't rate it very highly, but as I said, there is enough there to make me want to see if this series got better.
2014

[razinha-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Delightful introduction to a character found by way of a suggested other book in the series. Fascinating that it was published in 1923. I found it more enjoyable, engaging, and intelligent than Conan Doyle's Holmes stories. I might have pushed another star were it not for the Melvillian hyper-detail tedium of an inquest proceeding in the middle.

Ms. Sayers was quite the literary polymath. I hope to find time to read more of these. I'm dead in the water with Doyle's Holmes as it is just dull, but the non inquest parts of Whose Body? were far from it.

[kaitanya64 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I haven't read a bad Dorothy Sayers yet, so I'm not surprised that this kept me on the edge of my seat. A little more raw and physical than some of her other Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries and as always an exploration of the nature of evil.

[heather_brock-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I wasn't too impressed and found this to be rather boring.

[hglotzbach_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I had a hard time with the dialogue and writing style used in this mystery. As the book progressed more focus was placed on the actual case making it easier to read. This is my first time reading Dorothy L. Sayers so I really didn't know what to expect. I am looking forward to more Lord Peter Wimsey.

[jguidry-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I loved the first installment in the Lord Peter Whimsy series. I love his interactions with other characters and especially the way he works with his friend in Scotland Yard, Charles Parker. This wasn't the most interesting of Sayers books, mystery-wise, but it was still a good storyline. However, in my opinion, Lord Peter's mother--The Dowager Duchess--stole the show from him. She was quick-witted and warm-hearted and you could definitely see where Lord Peter gets his personality from.

[antiquary_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A very good opening to the series, with a naked male body appearing in a respectable architect' bath, and a distinguished Jewish financier vanishing. As it turns out, they are not the same man, but there is a connection.

[grandpahobo_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The story and mystery are well done. There is a bit too much time spent on the personality and eccentricities of Peter Whimsy, but I expect that was a large part of the appeal at the time the story was published.

[pgchuis · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A body is found in a bath, naked except for a pince-nez, and a prominent financier is missing, but the body is not his. The first Peter Wimsey story, with a convoluted (devious but utterly unlikely) plot, helpfully explained by the letter of confession at the end. This novel is enjoyable to me for the characters: Lord Peter of course, but the invaluable Bunter, and the Dowager Duchess, who is full of mischief. The relationship between Bunter and Lord Peter: master and servant, former officers in WW1, carer and patient and colleagues in detection etc is well-drawn and convincing and the best thing about this book.

[kristak-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I was honestly disappointed in this book and in Sayers' writing. I had heard rave reviews about her books and how Dorothy L. Sayers was "another Agatha Christie". However, Sayers strayed from the storyline and left holes in the plot. There were so many added pages that it was almost confusing. Unlike Hercule Poirot, and other characters of Christie's, Lord Peter Whimsey was not a character that you could immediately like or feel friendly with.
The mystery itself was interesting, if only the story could have kept my attention....

[bill5bradford · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I originally started trying to read Sayer's Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries about 10-15 years ago, and only got about a 1/3 of the way through. It was a thoroughly delightful surprise then to go back, and find out how good these are.

The stories are set in 1920's England (for all of you Downton fans, a perfect setting). The characters are superb. One can spend hours chuckling at the interaction between Lord Peter and Bunter, his valet. One also finds the origins of the strong friendship between the two.

Overall, a simply delightful book - and I now understand why these are classics of the golden age of British mysteries.

[sianpr · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

1st outing for amateur sleuth Lord Peter Wimsey. Enjoyable although dated and interesting twist by addition of 1st world war shell shock to Wimsey.

[booksfordinner · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Funny, I just started reading this series at around the same time I started reading the Patrick O'Brian Aubrey-Maturin books, and I feel the same way about them . These books are literature disguised as genre novels! The language is fantastic, and I love how Sayers introduces the idea that Wimsey suffered from PTSD after WWI. I hope that is explored more in future books.

[aliceanna-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I really expected to like this book better. I found it a bit dull and the character of Lord Peter Wimsey to be somewhat difficult to like. Not that impressed.

[helenliz_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Another Wimsey re-read.
In this one there's a missing financier and a mystery body - are the two related? It seems unlikely, but with Parker working on the missing man from the police end and Wimsey working on the mystery body from the end of the family who had this dumped in their bath the two cases work their way together.
I like this one with the excpetion of the final chapter, where the criminal confesses in a letter being written as he was arrested and prior to his intended flight form justice. Having it laid out like that somehow takes the gloss off it. But with that quibble aside, this is interesting for several elements, the incidence of Wimsey's shell shock being one that stands out.
So one of the best puzzles, but the ending, to my mind, lets it down slightly.

[rubyscarlett-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Not her best, to be sure. I enjoyed the characters though I feel they could have been drawn with more detail (especially Peter, I can't wait to read more about him). I like her use of language and the set of society she's chosen to represent is great fun. The conclusion is a little frustrating seeing as the murderer confesses all in a letter but Sayer's humour really saves the mystery from being commonplace. I'll definitely continue reading the books in the series.