22 books like Dizzy Heights Mysteries

Try as I might, I can’t get into Marple. But T.E. Kinsey’s Lady Hardcastle series, beginning with the debut A Quiet Life in The Country turns the cozy genre on its head. In this case, the dithering, older busybody is Lady Emily Hardcastle, with her trusty ladies’ maid, Florence Armstrong. As the book and series progress, we find that neither woman is quite the helpless Edwardian female the neighbors believe. Come for the murder mystery and stay for the… knife throwing? 

A retro pulp-fiction novel from one of the world’s best-selling authors, David Baldacci.

A Gambling Man is the second intriguing story in Baldacci’s Archer Series about a former WWII veteran working as a private detective. Archer is joined en route to Los Angeles by a beautiful young lady with ambitions in Hollywood who leads them into dangerous territory with murderous gangsters and politicians trying to improve the odds in their favour.

Baldacci’s Archer Series is modeled on the early detective stories of authors like Raymond Chandler and Mickey Spillane. He creates a tough guy detective in the style of the early masters while making Archer more appealing to modern readers – less macho and more respectful of the independent women joining his fight to stop the death and destruction. 

Disfigured and jobless after a fire, Timothy Wilde takes a job with the newly formed NYPD. He is assigned to the Sixth Ward, right on the border of the Five Points, a ward notorious for the desperately poor who live there and the rampant crime. One night he finds a young girl running through the street in a nightgown soaked with blood. She tells an unbelievable story of bodies buried in a nearby woods. Wilde investigates and soon finds himself a target of the city’s wealthy, several of whom are guilty of the most heinous of crimes but feel entitled to escape any accountability. Written in the slang of the times, it reads with the immediacy and plausibility of a memoir. I loved this book because it treats such serious issues: income inequality and the lack of accountability for the rich and powerful—even when engaged in child prostitution and murder.

Blends psychological thriller, historical fiction, and detective mystery, set in New York City in 1896.

Journalist John Schuyler Moore and psychologist Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, aided by a young Theodore Roosevelt, investigate brutal murders that shock the city. Carr’s meticulous research brings Gilded Age New York vividly to life, from opulent drawing rooms to grim tenements.

The novel explores the roots of criminal profiling and human darkness, reflecting techniques I use in my own book's character’s investigations, including incorporating real historical figures for authenticity.

Did this book give birth to hardboiled literature? No, but I feel it mothered and fathered it. 

Did this book—when filmed in 1941—give rise to film noir? I would say yes or “oui.”

This book lives on in libraries and bookstores, in minds and memories, on screens big and small, as a cultural masterpiece. But please don’t get me wrong about masterpiece. Hammett’s existential story of antiheroic private detective Sam Spade wriggling out of death as he fends off the cagey but crazed pursuers of a worthless “jeweled” bird breathes more deeply, more compellingly every time I re-read it. Through the book, I face the dark—and find the gloom almost charming. 

Who doesn't want to be Posey Parker? She’s smart, she eats loads, and never gets tubby. She’s always gorgeous, though she’s not at all arrogant about it. Give Posey a compliment or a sandwich; she’ll take the sandwich every time.

On the negative side, she lives in the 1920s with the world still reeling from the first world war, and women’s rights decidedly sketchy. Also, she’s trapped on the Night Train to Paris with a sense of impending doom. (I totally identify with that, having traveled on the Glasgow to London sleeper.)

L.B. Hatheway has crafted a book that offers the best kind of mystery and a great understanding of the time's history, and Clare Wille voices it flawlessly. 

When Agatha Christie died, so did Miss Marple. It also meant the demise of the best wee-mustached Belgian detective ever. Except it didn't. The delectably smart Sophie Hannah has written a series of Poirot books from the point of view of Poirot’s sidekick, Edward Catchpool—best pronounced with a strong Belgian accent—and they’re so brilliant even Agatha herself would be impressed. 

Lady Athelinda Playford has invited Poirot to a party at her mansion, where she’s planning to announce changes to her will. So obviously, there’s going to be a murder, and Poirot and his little gray cells will solve it. It's a delicious book, read magnificently by Julian Rhind-Tutt. The only real mystery to be answered is when is Sophie Hannah writing more? 

When I was a kid, my Mum loved Upstairs Downstairs—a TV show about a household in Victorian England and the lives of the gentry upstairs and the servants downstairs. Nobody was allowed to even whisper when it was on. 

Well, the Mrs Jeffries Mysteries would have blown her mind. Because the servants in Detective Witherspoon’s household not only do regular servanting but also solve murders on the fly. 

There are loads of great characters: Mrs Goodge, the surly cook, Smythe, the fierce-looking coachman with a heart of gold, and of course Mrs Jeffries herself, who’s like a sherry-guzzling Sherlock Holmes who can tidy.

I don't know if writer Clara Benson and narrator Gethyn Edwards are best pals, but they're matched so perfectly in this book; they should be. Anyway, here's a tip. If you're invited to a party in a rambling old country mansion with secret passages and dark histories, don't be a jerk. Because then you might find yourself dead in the library like Professor Coddington. Nobody is particularly upset at a killer being on the loose, except that sort of thing can ruin a party and a reputation.

Luckily, Freddie Pilkington Soames is on hand—the most ramshackle, thoroughly reprehensible, fabulous chap one could meet—to save the day. Clara Benson really knows how to write a great character. This book made me laugh out loud.  

As anyone who has ever grown up in Glasgow will tell you, don't mess with short people. A short, angry Scottish woman can have your proverbial eye out when riled. Especially if they’re meant to be enjoying themselves at the seaside. And that's exactly the case with Lady Hardcastle’s loyal sidekick, Flo. Granted, Flo is Welsh, and the duo lives in Edwardian England rather than 20th-century Scotland, but this pair can sort matters out faster than my mother and her wee pal, Margaret. 

Elizabeth Knowelden brilliantly reads this rollicking romp about disappearances, espionage, ice cream, and donkey rides. I like any story with a fearsome female sidekick. Fearsome sidekicks have for too long been dominated by scary blokes with muscles.