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Philip Gilbert, a trader in Sherlock Holmes collectibles, turns up dead in a gun emplacement in Golden Gate National Recreation Area. There is enough crime to go around, so it comes as no surprise when the Park police turn jurisdiction over to SFPD without so much as a peep. After all, the victim's home --- and possibly crime scene --- is in the City. So Detectives Kate Martinelli and Al Hawkin head over to Gilbert's house with crime scene investigators. Stepping inside, they feel like they are being transported to another time: The entire first floor is patterned after 221B Baker Street, authentic right down to the kitchen fittings and gas sconces. Is this a case of an anachronistic victim fallen prey to a modern Moriarty, or a Holmes fanatic murdered for a valuable relic?
Bemused by the evidence, Kate employs her own kind of detecting, relying on modern techniques, forensics, intuition and, yes, a little deductive reasoning. She finds no shortage of suspects. There's an attorney, suspicious because he's simply too helpful; a voyeuristic neighbor; an apathetic ex-wife; and possibly a gay lover, which might account for the ex-wife's apathy. But best of all, there's the entire membership of The Strand Diners, a group drawn together by one, and only one, thing in common: Sherlock Holmes. And Philip Gilbert was the self-appointed head of this odd assortment of devotees. Says one of the current Diners: "Philip ... was one of the founding members, fifteen, twenty years ago. I doubt he missed more than one or two meetings in all the years I've known him."
As a one-time member of a Holmes fan club, I know just how avid (or should I say obsessed) the members can be. One of the founders of my club had missed only one meeting in the 10 years of its existence, and that was because her father died that day. She would have come anyway, she said, but feared it might make the others uncomfortable. So, you see, anything's possible when it comes to the devoted Sherlockians.
While busily checking motives and alibis among the club, neighbors, and various and sundry others, Kate gets wind of an old manuscript. Written during a time it is believed that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle visited the Bay Area, speculation circulates that Doyle himself may have been the author. But it needs authentication, which Gilbert seemed to be working on at the time of his death. With the story set in San Francisco and recounting a tale about a body that turns up in the same Park gun emplacement, the direction of the investigation takes a bit of a curve. In the middle of the case, Kate takes time out to read the manuscript --- and we read right along with her. It's like getting two mysteries in one!
Meanwhile, Kate juggles her domestic life with her professional one, as difficult for this fictional detective as it is for real-life ones. Her lover, Lee, and daughter Nora compete with SFPD for Kate's time. Lee takes a change of family plans very poorly. In fact, she jealously guards scheduled vacations and days off. Plus, no one wants to disappoint little Nora. Despite all the demands on her time, Kate handily wraps up the case, with all the drama and happy endings you would expect of Laurie R. King.
Chockfull of red herrings, Holmes trivia and alternative family scenarios, THE ART OF DETECTION is good old-fashioned fun meets modern San Francisco bizarre.
--- Reviewed by Kate Ayers
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