“He wished, if the lunatics like Greenmask had to come along, they’d kill off just the unlikable people who wouldn’t be missed.”


Unlike her Luis Mendoza series and the Vic Varallo series, I had only vague recollections of the Ivor Maddox series penned by Elizabeth Linington. It would gradually become the Ivor Maddox and Susan Carstairs series — which astute readers can feel coming even in the first entry; Maddox can’t quite understand why it is so easy to be around policewoman Carstairs. Perhaps it’s her affability, or good police work. Or perhaps it’s her seeming obliviousness to him, whereas, almost to his chagrin, women seem to be universally attracted to him, though he doesn’t find any reason for it.

“Maddox felt slightly cheered up to see her, for no reason. Good old Carstairs. The reliable Carstairs, looking at him with her grave dark eyes.”

I’m not certain why I didn’t recall this series as well, because it’s fabulous! Very much set in the 1960s, there still exists — outside of some deliciously politically incorrect stuff in the denouement — an almost classic mystery vibe to it; thanks in no small part to the life and characteristics Linington gave her series protagonist, and this particular plot. Linington was a mystery lover herself, quite knowledgable about the genre, and by making Maddox a mystery book collector as well as a smart copper, and then weaving in a narrative which allowed that aspect of his life to blur with the crime, she kicked off this series in grand fashion.

Ivor Maddox has Welsh blood, and has just been promoted to Sergeant. He is also moving for the first time. As this one opens, he is trying to settle in both at the little house he’s chosen because it had space to put up his book shelves, and the Wilcox station in Hollywood. Thirty-one-year-old Maddox is dark-haired, single, a book-hound, drives a scarlet-red Frazer Nash sport’s car, and considers himself rather ordinary looking at 5’9”. He continues to be astounded that every attractive female he comes across, eventually makes a play for him.

Though the ‘60s very much play a part when reading this today, and you can feel it, the Hollywood element surprisingly does not. I have to believe this was deliberate on the part of Linington, who wanted to show that whether it was Glendale (Vic Varallo series), Los Angeles (Luis Mendoza series), or Hollywood (Ivor Maddox series), crime was crime, and cops were cops. Settings may have varied, but motives and passion and avarice were universal, crossing all logistical and cultural borders.

Maddox is buried in boxes of books he’s attempting to organize onto newly erected book shelves, when D’Arcy and Céaser Rodriguez pull him away to Walt’s Malt Shop, where a man lay bludgeoned. Left at the scene is a county guide, a green ribbon, and this note:

“This is number one! Greenmask.”

While Rodriguez is delighted to have a real challenge for a change, Maddox is less enamored of having a nut job running around killing people randomly as in a 1920s mystery novel. As the bodies begin to pile up — and they do — something about the case keeps nagging at Maddox. It isn’t until later, as he continues unpacking his books, that he comes across a very famous mystery novel in his collection, and realizes the killer is recreating it.

If you’re up on mysteries and mystery authors, you might have guessed which book it is from the description of the killing. What you can't guess is just how much fun it creates in the narrative when Maddox brings the book into the station, and informs the others what’s going on. Rodriguez, who has never been a reader, much less a mystery reader, gets so hooked on Maddox's books that it’s hard to make him focus on the case at hand. Readers also finally meet Susan Carstairs and get a glimmer of what lies ahead in the series for her and Maddox.

There are plenty of interesting suspects, possible killers, but the trick is figuring out just which of the victims was the “important” one. Along with the famous mystery author in question — who shall not be named — it appears a forgone conclusion to Maddox that Rodriguez finally discovers John Dickson Carr, and devours his books one after another. Book lovers will delight in this one, as will those who enjoy mystery puzzles blended with police work. D’Arcy’s real name is revealed to Carstairs by Maddox, and there is a fine ending as Rodriguez gets permanently hooked on reading mysteries.

Very much set in the 1960s, Maddox’s explanation of how and why the Greenmask killer came to be, when all is revealed, and how another person is persuaded to help him or her, will surely ruffle the feathers of the uber-sensitive, woke PC crowd. It is, however, a true portrait, but one simply more honestly portrayed during the time period in which Linington's book is set than is acceptable in our day.

Greenmask is delicious fun for mystery lovers, a real classic. It is a wonderful beginning to another great series by masterful mystery writer Elizabeth Linington - a.k.a. Dell Shannon, Lesley Egan, and Anne Blaisdell. No Evil Angel is the second entry in this wonderful police procedural series that I highly recommended. Great fun! ( )