Like The Gracie Allen Murder Case before it, Winter was first written as a screenplay, in this case a vehicle for the figure skater Sonja Henie. However, while Allen’s scatterbrained persona made a charming foil for Philo’s stuffed-shirt pretensions, Ms. Henie provided no such inspiration. Van Dine did not live long enough to see her outed as a Nazi supporter, but her ice-princess act offered less for Philo to play against. It should be noted that Winter was published posthumously to close out the series, and though it went to press without Van Dine’s usual repeated revisions, it is true vintage Philo—utterly distinctive in style and its own very genuine kind of pleasure.

New York in the 1920s is the world’s most glamorous city, and drinking it in like the finest champagne is Philo Vance, an expert in art with the deepest pockets, the brainiest brains, and the most gloriously ludicrous pretensions in the history of crime fiction.When a scheming young stockbroker is murdered—in a delicious locked-room scenario based on a real case of the day—Vance steps in to solve the puzzle not merely because he is bored and seeking new entertainment, but also because honor compels him to point out all the ways in which the police are getting it wrong. The cops of course are profoundly grateful, like all members of the lower orders when their mistakes are pointed out. Peter Wimsey would be appalled, but the reader will be delighted. Philo Vance (here in his first outing) is the sleuth you love to hate.

The sleuth we love to hate is back, as Philo Vance investigates the murder of a "fast and easy showgirl" known as the Canary. Let us begin by promising that no actual birds are harmed in this story. The Canary of the title is Margaret Odell, once a showgirl in the Ziegfeld Follies, more recently an occasional nightclub singer and professional good time. When she is murdered, there are any number of suspects, all of the male variety. The police, of course, are baffled—it was ever thus—but happily, Philo Vance is on the scene, ready to apply his brilliance, his erudition, his astonishingly nuanced grasp of human nature to the solving of the crime. British crime writer and critic Julian Symons once noted that “It is difficult to grasp the extent of Van Dine’s success,” but a success he surely was: Canary stayed on bestseller lists for months and was filmed with William Powell and Louise Brooks. Will you cozy up to Philo Vance? Unlikely. But you’ll have a dandy time.

The sleuth we love to loathe is back! Philo Vance—the snootiest snob in Jazz Age NYC—investigates murders in the wealthy Greene family, who are dropping like flies!Members of the Greene family keep dying, while the pool of possible perpetrators keeps shrinking…although the servants, each one weirder than the next, remain in the pink of health). Vance—the independently wealthy, staggeringly brilliant, not remotely modest (and did we mention handsome?) amateur sleuth—uses his detective skills to unravel the murders, though sadly not before most of the Greene family has been bumped off.First published in 1928, The Greene Murder Case topped the year’s bestseller lists and was made into not one, not two, but an astonishing three films, the first starring William Powell, and the second somebody named Grant Richards. The third, a made-for-TV movie, came out just sixteen years ago…in the Czech Republic. That’s our Philo, the Sleuth the World Loves to Hate.

No amount of childish nonsense can put Philo off the trail of a murderer. After solving the Greene murders, Philo Vance has taken a well-earned holiday in Switzerland. Returning to New York City, he finds his old chum District Attorney Markham up against a bizarre series of murders inspired by children’s nursery rhymes. The first murder, involving a beautiful young woman and a private archery range, was apparently based on “Who Killed Cock Robin?”; it is followed by more hideous deaths referencing Mother Goose. But Philo Vance is not a man to be fobbed off with points to juvenilia. Markham and his colleagues may be worried that a certain Mr. H. Dumpty is riding for a great fall, but Philo suspects a connection to a rather more sophisticated writer.

Ancient mysteries...or just good old-fashioned murder? In 1922, English anthropologist Howard Carter uncovered the long-hidden tomb of King Tutankhamun, and the world promptly went Egypt-crazy. Just a few years later, New York is not immune to the craze, and even Philo Vance, that eminent scholar-sleuth, has some sympathy for the fad—though of course he knows lots more about the topic than Carter ever did. When a wealthy Egyptologist is murdered, with mysterious inscriptions and artifacts dotted round, it’s only natural that John F.-X. Markham calls on Philo for help. After all, Markham is merely the New York District Attorney, whereas Philo Vance is…well, Philo Vance.

Like The Gracie Allen Murder Case before it, Winter was first written as a screenplay, in this case a vehicle for the figure skater Sonja Henie. However, while Allen’s scatterbrained persona made a charming foil for Philo’s stuffed-shirt pretensions, Ms. Henie provided no such inspiration. Van Dine did not live long enough to see her outed as a Nazi supporter, but her ice-princess act offered less for Philo to play against. It should be noted that Winter was published posthumously to close out the series, and though it went to press without Van Dine’s usual repeated revisions, it is true vintage Philo—utterly distinctive in style and its own very genuine kind of pleasure.

New York in the 1920s is the world’s most glamorous city, and drinking it in like the finest champagne is Philo Vance, an expert in art with the deepest pockets, the brainiest brains, and the most gloriously ludicrous pretensions in the history of crime fiction.When a scheming young stockbroker is murdered—in a delicious locked-room scenario based on a real case of the day—Vance steps in to solve the puzzle not merely because he is bored and seeking new entertainment, but also because honor compels him to point out all the ways in which the police are getting it wrong. The cops of course are profoundly grateful, like all members of the lower orders when their mistakes are pointed out. Peter Wimsey would be appalled, but the reader will be delighted. Philo Vance (here in his first outing) is the sleuth you love to hate.

The sleuth we love to hate is back, as Philo Vance investigates the murder of a "fast and easy showgirl" known as the Canary. Let us begin by promising that no actual birds are harmed in this story. The Canary of the title is Margaret Odell, once a showgirl in the Ziegfeld Follies, more recently an occasional nightclub singer and professional good time. When she is murdered, there are any number of suspects, all of the male variety. The police, of course, are baffled—it was ever thus—but happily, Philo Vance is on the scene, ready to apply his brilliance, his erudition, his astonishingly nuanced grasp of human nature to the solving of the crime. British crime writer and critic Julian Symons once noted that “It is difficult to grasp the extent of Van Dine’s success,” but a success he surely was: Canary stayed on bestseller lists for months and was filmed with William Powell and Louise Brooks. Will you cozy up to Philo Vance? Unlikely. But you’ll have a dandy time.

The sleuth we love to loathe is back! Philo Vance—the snootiest snob in Jazz Age NYC—investigates murders in the wealthy Greene family, who are dropping like flies!Members of the Greene family keep dying, while the pool of possible perpetrators keeps shrinking…although the servants, each one weirder than the next, remain in the pink of health). Vance—the independently wealthy, staggeringly brilliant, not remotely modest (and did we mention handsome?) amateur sleuth—uses his detective skills to unravel the murders, though sadly not before most of the Greene family has been bumped off.First published in 1928, The Greene Murder Case topped the year’s bestseller lists and was made into not one, not two, but an astonishing three films, the first starring William Powell, and the second somebody named Grant Richards. The third, a made-for-TV movie, came out just sixteen years ago…in the Czech Republic. That’s our Philo, the Sleuth the World Loves to Hate.

No amount of childish nonsense can put Philo off the trail of a murderer. After solving the Greene murders, Philo Vance has taken a well-earned holiday in Switzerland. Returning to New York City, he finds his old chum District Attorney Markham up against a bizarre series of murders inspired by children’s nursery rhymes. The first murder, involving a beautiful young woman and a private archery range, was apparently based on “Who Killed Cock Robin?”; it is followed by more hideous deaths referencing Mother Goose. But Philo Vance is not a man to be fobbed off with points to juvenilia. Markham and his colleagues may be worried that a certain Mr. H. Dumpty is riding for a great fall, but Philo suspects a connection to a rather more sophisticated writer.

Ancient mysteries...or just good old-fashioned murder? In 1922, English anthropologist Howard Carter uncovered the long-hidden tomb of King Tutankhamun, and the world promptly went Egypt-crazy. Just a few years later, New York is not immune to the craze, and even Philo Vance, that eminent scholar-sleuth, has some sympathy for the fad—though of course he knows lots more about the topic than Carter ever did. When a wealthy Egyptologist is murdered, with mysterious inscriptions and artifacts dotted round, it’s only natural that John F.-X. Markham calls on Philo for help. After all, Markham is merely the New York District Attorney, whereas Philo Vance is…well, Philo Vance.