Alan Bradley’s Flavia de Luce series, which is on its third volume with Red Herring Without Mustard, continues to delight, intrigue, and enchant in equal measure. Flavia, child genius, poison expert, and consummate aide to the investigations of the local constabulary, has once again involved herself in the nefarious goings-on of the village of Bishop’s Lacey. This time a mysterious gypsy woman has been attacked, but not before she manages to imply that she knows something of Flavia’s mysterious mother. Of course, Flavia is quickly on the spot to do a bit of investigating, not least because, as an apology for (accidentally) lighting the gypsy’s tent on fire, Flavia had invited her to stay on part of her father’s estate. As soon as the crimes begin piling up, the intrepid and inquisitive Flavia is on the move, questioning possible witnesses, conducting (almost certainly) dangerous experiments, and bringing the sort of insight that only Flavia can bring, complete with mental games to make the most of her quick wits and understanding:

I had long ago discovered that when a word or formula refused to come to mind, the best thing for it was to think of something else: tigers, for instance, or oatmeal. Then, when the fugitive word was least expecting it, I would suddenly turn the full blaze of my attention back onto it, catching the culprit in the beam of my mental torch before it could sneak off again into the darkness. “Thought-stalking,” I called the technique, and I was proud of myself for having invented it.

Flavia’s thought-stalking should be the worst fear of any criminals in the area, and she quickly proves herself capable of both helping and hindering the police, depending, of course, on how appreciated she feels at the time. Her relationship with Inspector Hewitt is especially wonderful, combining equal parts competition (on her part) and compassion (on his) to make for one of the more charismatic teams in the detecting business:

How I adored this man! Here we were, the two of us, engaged in a mental game of chess in which both of us knew that one of us was cheating.

Flavia’s life isn’t all criminals and chemistry though, and the realities of maintaining a struggling estate (in limbo since the untimely death of Harriet, her mother) are taking their toll on the de Luce family and adding complications to an already complex family. These books are as much about the relationships between the characters (and enjoying the sisters’ spats and Flavia’s elaborate plans for vengeance) as about the crimes, and Bradley is a master at evoking the nuances that come of being part of such a dynamic and clever family. The setting contributes in equal measure, lifting the story up as Flavia races across it, and Bradley’s quiet descriptions and cunning details allow the reader to run alongside this fascinating girl and her gorgeous green bicycle. Red Herring Without Mustard, and all of its companion volumes, show such compassion, depth, and heart that they are a treat to read and Flavia a pleasure to know. This is the sort of book where you race to the end, only to be disappointed that there is nothing left and that you must wait any time at all for the next.

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