title: The Dons and Mr Dickens: The Strange Case of the Oxford Christmas Plot
author:  William J. Palmer 
description: In this historical mystery "lite," Wilkie Collins and his mentor, Charles Dickens, aided by Charles Dodgson, investigate the murder of one of Dodgson's fellow Oxford dons. As in other novels in this series (The Detective and Mr. Dickens, etc.), Dickens's mistress, the actress Ellen Ternan, plays a key roleDhere disguised as a barmaid at an Oxford pub, where she's planted in hopes she'll overhear members of the odd circle of dons that included the victim reveal some clue to his murder. Our heroes come to realize that these dons are involved in a neo-Gunpowder Plot, only possibly harmless, timed for Queen Victoria's annual Oxford visit. The author, a Dickens scholar, keeps the reader guessing the motives and the identity of the group's ringleader, while the jealous agonies that Dickens goes through as Ellen plays her often saucy part account for much of the fun in this "secret Victorian journal." Fun of a different sort is spotting the anachronisms. The year is 1853, yet Dodgson in a major scene uses "flash powder" to take a picture in the dark, decades before flash photography. Most egregious, however, is Mycroft Holmes, in a cameo role as a government agent, speaking of his "eccentric younger brother" the year before the great detective's birth. Some readers won't notice or care, but for the more literate, the prime audience for this type of mystery, such lapses only undermine the spell. An attractive period dust jacket is a plus. <br />Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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  The Christmas Cuckoo
  
  JACK Howard, late a major in the 51st Regiment, gave a depressed sigh as he
  folded his large frame into the chair nearest the fire. After eight weeks of
  nonstop travel, he was rumpled, tired, and in dire need of a haircut and a
  shave. He had looked forward to reaching the Red Duck Inn so he could eat,
  sleep the rest of the afternoon, eat again, then perhaps enjoy a spot of
  socializing in the taproom before retiring for the night. By morning he would
  have been sufficiently recovered from the rigors of travel to endure the
  ordeals ahead.
  
  Instead, no sooner had Jack set foot from the stagecoach than he had been
  intercepted by a small gray clerk. The aptly named Mr. Weezle was secretary to
  the countess—everyone always called her “the countess,” as if she were the
  only one in England—and he had been meeting the Portsmouth Courier every day
  for the last week. After the barest minimum of civil greetings, Mr. Weezle had
  swept Jack off to the coaching in