Wise-cracking private eye Johnny Getz is helping Det. Peter Diamond on a case to solve the disappearance of an antiques dealer. As they investigate, Diamond wonders if there is more to the case than initially thought. At the center of the mystery is a painting.
Septimus "Seppy" Hubbard, has disappeared, and his daughter, Ruby, hired Johnny Getz to find him. A dead body is discovered in Seppy's locked-up store, and now they have a murder investigation, vs. a missing persons case.
There is another murder of an art restorer, which points Diamond and Getz in a different direction.
The story is humorous, while also being a homage to the private eyes of days and novels past. ( )

If you're in the mood for something to make you smile, chuckle, and occasionally laugh out loud, pick up Peter Lovesey's Diamond and the Eye. Not only are you going to be amused, but you're also going to have fun sorting through all the lies and false trails of this particular investigation.

As the story progresses, readers-- who may once have been firmly in Diamond's anti-Getz camp-- begin to see that Getz isn't quite the simpleton he appears to be. This charming rogue has picked up quite a few useful tips from all that Golden Age crime fiction he's read. But what's even more fun is seeing how Diamond and Getz actually start working together.

Lovesey always finds some interesting facts in Bath's history to weave into his tales, and in Diamond and the Eye, readers will learn about car boot sales, antique dealers, and Bath's most famous artists. I never quite realized how fascinating Bath's history is until I started following Peter Diamond around.

This may be Diamond's twentieth appearance, but Lovesey keeps it fresh. The investigation tied into Bath's history isn't enough, though. Any long-running series needs a good cast of characters, and new officer Jean Sharp is proving to be a valuable addition to Diamond's team. What's even better, Keith Halliwell, Diamond's righthand man, proves that he has the power to shock us all.

From an investigation that kept me guessing to characters whose antics kept me laughing, Diamond and the Eye was the perfect escape. It probably will be for you, too. If you haven't sampled Lovesey's series before, don't be afraid to jump in with this one; there should be little (if any) confusion. After all, that's what I did several books ago. Just don't be surprised if you find yourself going back to enjoy previous books in the series. Peter Diamond can have that effect on you.

(Review copy courtesy of the publisher and Net Galley) ( )

Over the years Detective Superintendent Peter Diamond, head of CID in Bath, has become one of my favourite fictional coppers. Frequently impulsive and often bad tempered, he is an essentially empathetic character, struggling to curb his frustrations at the relentless stream of new management initiatives that hius superiors (whom he considers to be woefully lacking in frontline experience of the job) keep trying to introduce.

In this latest outing, he finds himself (reluctantly) investigating the disappearance of Septimus Hubbard, a flamboyant antique dealer who has not been seen since his shop was broken into a week earlier. A missing person case is not something that Superintendent Diamond might normally become involved with, but he is goaded into action by Johnny Getz, an aspiring local private detective, who has been retained by Mr Hubbard’s daughter. Diamond is reluctant to acknowledge that a serious crime might have been committed, until people involved with the case are shot at by a mystery gunman.

The Diamond novels have always tended more towards the whimsical end of the crime fiction genre. Ostensibly police procedurals, they do not tend to labour the grimmer aspects of urban crime, and one of their principal attractions is the heavy smattering of local colour that Lovesey adds. The Bath setting is, after all, particularly well-suited to this. In fact, I am surprised that the books haven’t been picked up for television, as I am sure they would have the same broad international appeal as the Morse series (with a similarly querulous, although perhaps less intellectually elevated protagonist).

This book takes the fomr of two separate narratives. The main one is a standard third person account, unfolding the action of the plot, but this is interspersed with occasional first-person contributions from Johnny Getz. To be honest, I found those sections very annoying. I think that Peter Lovesey was aiming for a jocular, slightly tongue in cheek approach, but I felt that it didn’t really come off. In fact, although I enjoyed the book overall, it was a bit weaker than most of the Diamond series, and I wonder whether it might be time for the Superintendent to be pensioned off, before any further weakening compromises the series as a whole. ( )

I love this series, and enjoyed this latest installment, though perhaps a tad less than other entries - just didn't get as caught up in the mystery itself. A woman hires a PI who has read too many American hardboiled mysteries and fashions himself as Bath's own Marlowe. Her father, an antiques dealer, has vanished, but the missing persons inquiry becomes a murder case when a body - not that of the dealer - is found in his shop. Complications ensue, with the story related through both the usual third person narration and through the voice of the PI, which grew on me after a while - but perhaps at the expense of spending time with curmudgeonly Peter Diamond, who seems to have softened around the edges in an uncharacteristic way. Fans of the genre will enjoy the many allusions to their favorites, though those unfamiliar with the canon might be a bit mystified.