One word resounds in one's ears throughout the reading experience: OBVIOUS. An obvious romance is played out at great length against the backdrop of obvious murders combined with an obvious impersonation. Obviously, the most obvious suspect turned out to be the killer, and, just as obviously, all ended well for the obviously good people. Since this book was selected by Barzun & Taylor as one of their 50 "classics of crime," it's obvious that anyone with an interest in the genre would be tempted to start reading it; and, since Barzun & Taylor assure the reader that it gets better after a slow start, it's obvious why someone would continue on with it despite its obviousness. What's not obvious at all is why B&T would rate the book so highly, although, after a number of similar experiences, I'm beginning to doubt their critical acumen, so maybe this unsatisfactory outcome should have been obvious after all. ( )

Prentiss Murray is summoned to the home of Oscar Lindstrom, a legal client whose granddaughter, Camilla, is his ward - and who, in spite of the difference in their ages, he is beginning to have considerable trouble thinking of any more as "just a kid". At the house, Murray learns that Camilla, recently licensed, has taken up the small plane which is her passion. She does not return in time for dinner. Lindstrom tells Murray he is certain that Miss Parsons, his secretary, has been rummaging through the drawer in his desk in which he keeps, among other things, a memorandum of the combination of his safe. While the old man wants to have her arrested, Murray advises him to dismiss her and have the combination changed. Lindstrom reveals that his grandson, Eric, is coming home after many years away; and, after complaining about both Eric and Camilla, announces his intention of altering his will.

Murray is less concerned with these details than he is about Camilla's protracted absence; he phones the small airport nearby where she keeps her plane, but they have heard nothing. Murray is wracked with fear until Camilla shows up at his apartment early the next morning, explaining that she was caught out by a sudden fog and had to set down in the middle of nowhere. He gives her breakfast and drives her home, where they find the police in attendance and learn that Lindstrom was shot dead the night before. As Miss Parsons is missing, it seems a straightforward case - until her body is also discovered. Meanwhile, Murray's thoughts are concentrated upon a series of tyre marks visible in the grounds of the estate - as if someone landed a small plane there...

Who Is The Next? is a well-written mystery that manages to cram a great deal of crime into a few days' action, and in which it is tantalisingly unclear whether Oscar Lindstrom is the victim of professional criminals interested in the money in his safe or domestic enemies interested in the contents of his will - or both. The initial scenario of grand theft on top of a double homicide, in concert with a threatened change of will, rapidly expands to encompass a secret marriage and an intruder in the grounds who bears a startling resemblance to Eric Lindstrom - who has a solid alibi some hundreds of miles away. When Eric does appear, his behaviour is erratic; bouts of bad temper on slight provocation barely hide his terror of something or someone. And then there is the matter of Gerald Taylor, an obvious criminal type who becomes Eric's guest in spite of his host's clear unwillingness to have him there - and whose departure from the house is mysteriously accompanied by a suitcase full of shoes...

There's a lot to like about this story, not least Webster's concise prose and lucid style. Its most significant attraction, however, is the intelligence of its central characters. While the mystery is eventually solved by the professionals, in the form of Chief of Police Hopkins and his men, the clarity of thought and ability to weigh the facts of Murray and Camilla provides Hopkins with a number of important leads. The frankness of these two in their dealings with Hopkins - even when much of the evidence seems to be pointing to Camilla - is refreshing, as is Hopkins' willingness to keep an open mind. The low-key romance between Murray and Camilla is unlikely yet appealing; their wary manoeuvring, as they come to terms with the fact that their affectionate friendship has deepened into something else, forms a counterpoint to their clear-cut involvement in the novel's mystery plot. Camilla herself, cleared as a suspect, emerges as a likeably strong heroine who, in grave danger towards the end of the story, saves herself with great aplomb - and by rather novel means. We should also spare a mention for Ruth Nelson, the secondary heroine - a little girl with amusingly acute powers of observation that come in very handy...

"I've never really believed in feminine intuition until now, but that strikes me as a very fine instance of it. I haven't a doubt that you've told me substantially what happened in this house last night."
"'Feminine', nothing!" said Camilla. "Pete, have you ever had anybody look at you the way that Chief of Police looked at me? If you'd been out all night without an alibi, with what looked like your tracks near the scene of a murder, and your pistol beside the body of a person you'd felt like murdering often enough, it would make you think."