The Water Room by Christopher Fowler

For various reasons I have been feeling in need of comfort of late and what could be more comforting than a traditional plays-by-the-rules detective novel? "The Water Room" is the second of Christopher Fowler's series featuring the octogenarian detectives Arthur Bryant (more decrepit than Miss Marple and grumpier than Inspector Morse) and John May (ancient but dapper and with an eye for the ladies). Between the two of them they have run the Perculiar Crimes Unit - a sort of underfunded British X Files - since it was established in the dark days of the Blitz.

An elderly woman is found dead in her basement having somehow drowned in river water. As the investigtion continues there are further deaths in the same terraced street. Is this coincidence or the work of a serial killer? And what is the husband of one of May's ex-girlfriends doing trailing about London at night with a load of caving equipment in the company of a dodgy Egyptian businessman? Because this is a proper, old school detective story we can rest assured that it will all be neatly tied up at the end.

There's a lot to like in the Bryant and May books. For a start there's extra tension because the heroes are so frail that if someone were to push them over in the street it would all be over. Also, there is usually a sinister or occult cast to their cases. Christopher Fowler also writes horror stories with good measure of humour in them. He's never going to trouble the Booker judges, but I've enjoyed everything I've read by him so far. He's a solid writer of genre fiction who recognises that there are a thousand things his readers ought to be getting on with so he'd better spin a good yarn. His work is nearly always set in London and replete with psychgeographic detail - like a version of Peter Ackroyd you might actually want to read.