My new novel Cabaret Macabre marks the return of retired stage magician turned amateur sleuth Joseph Spector in a 1930s-set locked-room mystery. Spector’s first appearance came in my debut novel – Death and the Conjuror. I always enjoy writing about him because he shares my love of both magic and the mysterious, but also because he has an innate sense of mystery surrounding him. In that respect, I suppose he is modelled on the likes of Harry Houdini and James Randi, but with a liberal sprinkling of Aleister Crowley and the Hammer Horror stylings of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee.

There isn’t too much to say about Spector’s personal history (at least, not yet), except to note that he lives in a ramshackle old house in Putney with his mute maid Clotilde, and that he has surrounded himself with all sorts of arcane and morbid memorabilia. He also has a knack for solving seemingly insoluble problems, and is therefore frequently consulted by Scotland Yard during particularly puzzling investigations. 

Since I was very young, I’ve been completely enthralled by the classic puzzle mysteries of Agatha Christie, John Dickson Carr, Ellery Queen, Christianna Brand, and so many others. The Spector series is essentially the distillation of all those influences; it’s a conscious tribute to the greats, but also my attempt to contribute something new to the locked-room mystery subgenre.

The first Spector book, Death and the Conjuror, sees the titular magician roped into a strange sequence of events surrounding the murder of famed psychiatrist Anselm Rees. Rees had recently settled in London, and taken on only three high-society clients: an actress, a musician, and a mystery novelist. The seemingly “impossible” nature of Rees’s death has stymied the official investigators. By exploring the complicated case histories of the three patients, as well as certain dark secrets in the dead doctor’s past, Spector must unravel the tangled web – but not before another seemingly impossible murder takes place. 

My second book The Murder Wheel is set roughly 18 months after the end of Death and the Conjuror, and sees Edmund Ibbs, a young lawyer, embroiled in a very strange criminal conspiracy. When he attends a magic show at the Pomegranate Theatre, the performance is interrupted by the inexplicable materialisation of a corpse on stage. Over the course of a single, frantic night, a locked-room murder takes place in one of the theatre’s dressing rooms. Ibbs finds himself wrongly accused, and on the run for his life. Only Spector can answer the two vital questions: “who?” and “how?” 

A third Spector novel, Cabaret Macabre, is publishing August, and it’s a particularly elaborate and complex criminous tapestry. Taking place in December 1938, it sees Spector drawn into the affairs of the decidedly unpleasant Drury family, whose members are being picked off one by one by a seemingly phantom assailant. But complications arise when it turns out the prime suspect is under lock and key in an asylum. The third book has a much higher body count than the first two, though it retains the “Golden Age” sensibilities that I love. However, I’ve had a lot of fun drawing on other influences, too, including the Jacobean drama The Revenger’s Tragedy, plus the honkaku and shin-honkaku fiction of Seishi Yokomizo and Yukito Ayatsuji. 

And soon I’ll be getting to work on the fourth Spector book, which is (very) tentatively titled The House at Devil’s Neck. I’m currently in that exciting “honeymoon period” where I’m fitting together ideas, mapping out the plot, and devising the impossibilities. It won’t be too long before I get started on the business of actually writing it. I can’t wait to immerse myself in that world of magic and mystery once again.