Detectives Arthur Bryant and John May are back on the case in this whip-smart and wildly twisting mystery, in which a killer in London's parks is proving to be a most elusive quarry. Helen Forester's day starts like any other: Around seven in the morning, she takes her West Highland terrier for a walk in her street's private garden. But by 7:20 she is dead, strangled yet peacefully laid out on the path, her dog nowhere to be found. The only other person in the locked space is the gardener, who finds the body and calls the police. He expects proper cops to arrive, but what he gets are Bryant, May, and the wily members of the Peculiar Crimes Unit. Before the detectives can make any headway on the case, a second woman is discovered in a public park, murdered in nearly identical fashion. Bryant, recovering from a health scare, delves into the arcane history of London's cherished green spaces, rife with class drama, violence, and illicit passions. But as a devious killer continues to strike, Bryant and May struggle to connect the clues, not quite seeing the forest for the trees. Now they have to think and act fast to save innocent lives, the fate of the city's parks, and the very existence of the PCU.

"Thinking of a jaunt to England? Let Arthur Bryant and John May, London's oldest police detectives, show you the oddities behind the city's façades in this tongue-in-cheek travel guide"-- "It's getting late. I want to share my knowledge of London with you, if I can remember any of it. So says Mr. Arthur Bryant. He and John May are the nation's oldest serving detectives. Who better to reveal its secrets? Why does this rainy, cold, gray city capture so many imaginations? Could its very unreliability hold the key to its longevity? The detectives are joined by their boss, Raymond Land, and some of their most disreputable friends, each an argumentative and unreliable expert in their own dodgy field. Each character gives us a short tour of odd buildings, odder characters, lost venues, forgotten disasters, confusing routes, dubious gossip, illicit pleasures, and hidden pubs. They make all sorts of connections and show us why it's almost impossible to separate fact from fiction in London"--

"London, 1969. With the Swinging Sixties under way, Detectives Arthur Bryant and John May find themselves caught in the middle of a good, old-fashioned manor house murder mystery. The critics are mad for Christopher Fowler, his irascible creations Bryant and May, and the Peculiar author's gift for writing classic mysteries with delightfully uncommon twists. Entertainment Weekly calls Fowler "deadpan, sly, and always unexpectedly inventive," while The Guardian admires his "splendidly eccentric characters [and] corkscrew plots." This new novel is no exception. As the Swinging Sixties paint dreary London a DayGlo rainbow, detectives Arthur Bryant and John May find themselves caught in the middle of a good old-fashioned manor house mystery. Hard to believe, but even positively ancient sleuths like Bryant and May of the Peculiar Crimes Unit were young once. or at least younger. Flashback to London 1969: mods and dolly birds, sunburst minidresses--but how long would the party last? After accidentally sinking a barge painted like the Yellow Submarine, Bryant and May are relegated to babysitting one Monty Hatton-Jones, the star prosecution witness in the trial of a disreputable developer whose prefabs are prone to collapse. The job for the demoted detectives? Keep the whistle-blower safe for one weekend. The task proves unexpectedly challenging when their unruly charge insists on attending a party at the vast estate Tavistock Hall. With falling stone gryphons, secret passageways, rumors of a mythical beast, and an all-too-real dismembered corpse, the bedeviled policemen soon find themselves with "a proper country house murder" on their hands. Trapped for the weekend, Bryant and May must sort the victims from the suspects, including a hippie heir, a missing millionaire, a blond nightclub singer, and a mystery writer--not to mention Monty himself--and nobody is quite who he or she seems to be"--

"When a man is found hanging upside down inside a willow tree on Hampstead Heath, surrounded by a baffling assortment of occult objects, the Peculiar Crimes Unit is called in to investigate. Was this a botched Satanic ritual pulled off by bored teenagers, a gang initiation, or the work of a mastermind with grander intentions? Bryant and May set off for answers and soon discover that London is a city steeped in blood and magic. When another body is pulled from the river in the early morning light, it becomes clear that a killer lurks in the night. To catch him, the PCU switches to graveyard shifts, but the team still comes up short. As they explore a night city where the normal rules do not apply, they're drawn deeper into a case that involves murder, arson, kidnapping, blackmail, loneliness, and bats. May takes a technological approach, while Bryant goes in search of academics and misfits for help, for this is becoming an investigation that reveals impossibilities at every turn. How do you stop a killer who appears not to exist? Luckily, impossibilities are what the Peculiar Crimes Unit does best"--

"When a prominent politician is crushed by a fruit van making a delivery, the singular team of Arthur Bryant and John May overcome insurmountable odds to reunite the PCU and solve the case in the brainy new mystery from acclaimed author Christopher Fowler. On a spring morning in London's Strand, the Speaker of the House of Commons is accidentally killed by a van unloading oranges and lemons for the annual St. Clement Danes festival. It's an absurd way to die, but the government is more interested in investigating the Speaker's state of mind just prior to his accident. The task is given to the Peculiar Crimes Unit--the only problem being that the unit no longer exists. Its Chief, Raymond Land, is tending his daffodils on the Isle of Wight and senior detectives Arthur Bryant and John May are out of commission; May is undergoing surgery for a bullet wound and Bryant has been missing for a month. What's more, the old unit in King's Cross is being turned into a vegetarian tapas bar. Against impossible odds, the team is reassembled and once again what should have been a simple case becomes a lunatic farrago involving arson, suicide, magicians, academics and a race to catch a killer with a master plan involving London churches. Joining their team this time is Sidney, a young woman with no previous experience, plenty of attitude--and a surprising secret"--

"A teenager sees a dead man rise from his grave--and moments later is killed in a sudden hit-and-run accident. Seven ravens housed in the impenetrable fortress that is the Tower of London vanish without a trace--and legend has it that when the ravens leave, the city will fall. Bryant and May must figure out how these two inexplicable, seemingly unrelated mysteries fit together as they begin an investigation that finds them confronting a group of latter-day body snatchers and exploring the corridors of an eerie funeral parlour, all to unearth the truth behind the gruesome legend of Bleeding Heart Yard"--

Detective John May and his partner, Arthur Bryant, find themselves tackling a bizarre serial killer nicknamed "The Highwayman, " whose crimes bear a striking similarity to other murders spanning London's history

When a bomb explodes in the office of London's most unusual police unit, it claims the life of its oldest detective, Arthur Bryant. As his surviving partner John May searches for clues to the bomber's identity, he finds his investigation taking him back to the day the detectives first met as young men in 1940

The River Thames is London's most important yet neglected artery. When a young woman is found chained to a post in the tide, no-one can understand how she came to be drowned there. At the Peculiar Crimes Unit, Arthur Bryant and John May find themselves dealing with an impossible crime committed in a very public place. Soon they discover that the river is giving up other victims, but as the investigation extends from the coast of Libya to the nightclubs of North London, it proves as murkily sinister as the Thames itself.