The Alto Wore Tweed

by Mark Schweizer

This is a very funny mystery and probably different from all other mysteries you have read. The protagonist of The Alto Wore Tweed is Hayden Konig, a man who wears several hats, but is predominantly chief of police and the only detective in St. Germaine, North Carolina, as well as choir master for the Episcopal church. He is highly qualified for both jobs, and music is his passion. He dates Meg, an investment counselor, who lives with and takes care of her aging mother. Hayden also has visions of being a mystery writer in the style of Raymond Chandler. He has several million in investments from the sale of a patent, but lives simply.

Hayden is a nice guy but is not one to butter people up or try to stay on everyone’s good side—especially the new rector at the Episcopal church, Mother Ryan, a woman who holds a “wimmym’s” retreat where the celebrants “ReImagine God in our own feminine image” and suggest new names for God such as Sophia, Moon Mother, and Wanda. The literally explosive, untimely ending to their retreat is hysterically funny.

The janitor at the church is found dead, and much of the book focuses on discovering how he died and who murdered him. Hayden and his staff of two are good at following clues, and I was convinced several times that I knew the identify of the killer only to have the investigation go in a different direction. The method the killer used was uncommon.

The style of writing is humorous, replete with puns and tongue in cheek repartee. The author inserts Hayden’s attempts at mystery writing throughout in a manual typewriter font. His reading audience is the choir as he inserts new chapters in their choir folders weekly for them to read when the service is boring.

The reader watches a Christmas disaster as the Rotary Club and Kiwanis Club create competing creche displays in subfreezing temperatures. What could go wrong when you have live animals, a bagpipe player, and a dromedary who thinks he hears his mating call? This book is the first in a series of 15 books with a distinctive kind of humor. 

In discussing this with my book club, I discovered a variety of responses to The Alto Wore Tweed. I think we all agreed that the insertion of the Chandler style mystery was not done well and immediately became a distraction rather than an enhancement. I know I have a quirky sense of humor, and that was confirmed as some members did not find the book nearly as funny as I did. The characters are  portrayed by caricatures; across the board almost no one is given a realistic depiction and therein lies the humor for me. There are MANY classical music references, most of which probably had significance which escaped me. If I had not spent some time in Episcopal and Anglican churches with a formal liturgy, I’m not sure I would have understood the format of the services. In conclusion, The Alto Wore Tweed is unconventional and  innovative. Its plot is worth following with a complicated mode of murder. I certainly did not determine the killer correctly before the conclusion. Some may consider it irreverent, but it pokes fun at those who think too highly of themselves. Eccentric characters rule the day.

Rating: 4/5

Category: Mystery, Humor

Publication:  2002—SJMP Books

Memorable Lines:

“Oh man,” I said, suddenly remembering everything I had forgotten to bring with me. “Nancy, did you bring any gloves? Mine are in the truck.”   “Right here, boss,” she said producing a box of physician’s disposable latex wear and a baggie from her purse.  “What a babe!” I said. Then, remembering my PC rules, quickly changed to “I mean, thank you Officer.”  Nancy snorted in good-natured disgust and handed me the box.

“On Friday, a woman came into the station and complained to Nancy that the night clerk at the Roadway had sold her baking powder instead of cocaine. She wanted to file a complaint. She even gave Nancy the baggie of powder.”  Meg looked at me in disbelief. “Was it baking powder?” “Nope. It was cocaine all right. We drove her down to Boone. Told her she needed to file her complaint from the courthouse. About halfway there, she started getting scared and told us she’d decided not to press charges. Anyway, they booked her on possession and locked her up.”

“Bourbon?” he asked, as soon as I walked in. I may have been becoming a little too predictable.  “Sheesh, Kent. It’s ten in the morning. At least we can pretend that we’re being civilized. Pour mine into this coffee.” I pushed his espresso across the desk to him and he poured a couple of fingers into both cups….I stirred my coffee with the end of my pen, wiped it on my jacket and waited for Kent to peruse the file.