With Marble Hall Murders, Anthony Horowitz delivers another brilliantly layered whodunit in the Susan Ryeland series, completing the trilogy that began with Magpie Murders (2016) and continued with Moonflower Murders (2020). In this third and final entry, Horowitz turns the metafictional mystery inside out once again, bringing back beloved editor-turned-sleuth Susan Ryeland and the ever-iconic fictional detective Atticus Pünd for one last, dazzling case.
Set against a sunlit backdrop of Cap Ferrat in the South of France, Marble Hall Murders is at once a murder mystery, a publishing industry satire, and a meditation on fiction’s comforting illusions. True to the spirit of its predecessors, it’s a mystery within a mystery—clever, suspenseful, and thematically rich.
From Crete to Crimes: Susan Ryeland Returns to the Scene
The novel opens with Susan Ryeland making a quietly melancholic return to London after abandoning her life in Crete and the boutique hotel she ran with Andreas. Horowitz takes his time reintroducing us to Susan—older, a little disillusioned, but no less sharp. This self-reflective tone, tinged with literary nostalgia, gives the opening chapters a kind of emotional gravity missing from many mysteries.
Susan is soon called back into the world of Atticus Pünd when her publisher, Michael Flynn, offers her a continuation manuscript of the Pünd series—Pünd’s Last Case—written not by the late Alan Conway, but by Eliot Crace, the grandson of a legendary children’s author. The new manuscript, Susan discovers, is tied to a real-life death: that of Eliot’s grandmother, Marian Crace, who, he insists, was murdered.
And from there, things spiral.
A Death in Fiction Mirrors a Death in Reality
This new manuscript becomes a mirror—metaphorically and structurally—to Marian’s mysterious death fifteen years prior. As Susan begins editing Eliot’s novel, she slowly realizes that the fictional murder in Pünd’s Last Case conceals clues about Marian’s actual demise.
Horowitz’s ingenious use of dual narratives is fully on display. Much like Magpie Murders used the Alan Conway manuscript to build its inner mystery, Marble Hall Murders employs the Crace continuation as a clever sleight of hand, using Susan’s outsider perspective to unpack not one but two crimes: the death of Marian Crace and, suddenly, the death of Eliot Crace himself in a suspicious hit-and-run.
The structure works beautifully. It’s puzzle-box storytelling at its finest, bolstered by clean prose and purposeful pacing. Horowitz’s mastery of the form shines as he takes us through manuscripts, family secrets, editorial intrigue, and past betrayals.
The Return of Atticus Pünd—In New Hands
Atticus Pünd, the fictional detective first crafted by Alan Conway, returns in Pünd’s Last Case, this time written by Eliot Crace, and remarkably well. The Pünd sections are again styled in the Golden Age tradition, this time set in the South of France and involving the death of Lady Margaret Chalfont—a woman supposedly dying of a heart condition but in fact poisoned during afternoon tea.
These embedded chapters are vital not only to the plot, but also to the theme. Atticus Pünd, now terminally ill himself, serves as a moral compass and philosophical guide, anchoring the mystery and quietly questioning the nature of justice, truth, and endings—literary or otherwise.
While the character is technically authored by Eliot within the fiction, Horowitz himself writes him with such studied authenticity that the shift in “authorship” feels deliberate and seamlessly executed. It’s metafiction that doesn’t feel gimmicky.
A Murder Mystery—and a Literary Autopsy
Where Magpie Murders was a love letter to Agatha Christie, and Moonflower Murders explored the echo of fiction across real-world violence, Marble Hall Murders serves as a kind of literary autopsy. It examines not just the form of the mystery novel, but its consequences—how fictional constructs can obscure or illuminate truth, how authors use stories to hide real motives, and how editors like Susan Ryeland must navigate that double edge.
Several metafictional themes surface here:
- The debate over continuation novels, particularly when written for profit (Pünd’s Last Case is, after all, a commercial decision by a greedy publisher).
- The ethics of posthumous authorship—can characters survive their creators?
- The danger of layered truths, where fiction becomes a smokescreen for actual crimes.
In this way, the novel feels remarkably modern and self-aware, despite its nostalgic nods to classic mystery tropes.
High Praise: What Works Brilliantly
- Narrative Precision: Horowitz structures the book with meticulous care. The transitions between Susan’s investigation and Pünd’s fictional case are fluid, purposeful, and thematically resonant.
- Character Depth: Susan Ryeland has evolved beautifully across the trilogy. In this final installment, she’s not just solving a mystery—she’s resolving her place in the world of fiction and publishing.
- A True Tribute to Mystery Fiction: Marble Hall Murders is both homage and evolution. It celebrates the elegance of the classic whodunit while pushing its boundaries.
- The Pünd Manuscript: It’s tightly written, compelling, and satisfying in its own right. You could easily imagine it as a standalone Christie-style novel.
- Tone and Language: Horowitz maintains a lightness of touch even when dealing with layered deaths, betrayals, and metafictional commentary. The wit sparkles, particularly in Susan’s internal monologues.
The Drawbacks: What Slightly Undercuts the Mystery
Despite its brilliance, Marble Hall Murders isn’t entirely without flaws:
- A Slightly Padded Midsection: The scenes detailing Susan’s new life back in London feel drawn out. While insightful, they briefly slow the novel’s momentum.
- One Twist Too Many: In classic Horowitz style, the final reveal layers twist upon twist. Some readers might find the culmination slightly overwrought, requiring considerable suspension of disbelief.
- Limited Emotional Payoff for Eliot: Eliot Crace, whose literary talent and tragic end serve as a lynchpin, doesn’t get quite the emotional weight he deserves. His character arc is more symbolic than deeply felt.
Nonetheless, these are minor missteps in a novel of such high craftsmanship.
A Trilogy’s Thematic Resolution
In many ways, this book isn’t just a mystery—it’s a reflection on storytelling itself. Horowitz doesn’t merely solve crimes; he questions how they’re told. Through Susan Ryeland’s arc—from reluctant editor to reluctant detective to reluctant realist—Marble Hall Murders completes a literary metamorphosis.
Where Magpie Murders was about the toxicity of authorship and Moonflower Murders about the unreliability of narrative, this final book is about ownership—who controls a story, who continues it, and at what cost.
In that sense, this finale doesn’t just end the series. It completes it.
Final Verdict
Anthony Horowitz’s Marble Hall Murders is a metafictional masterclass, a fiendishly clever mystery, and a rewarding conclusion to one of the most inventive crime fiction trilogies of the 21st century. Fans of Susan Ryeland, Atticus Pünd, and Horowitz’s deeply intellectual take on the genre will find themselves grinning at every twist and salivating at every layer.
For readers who love classic whodunits but crave something smarter, sharper, and more structurally daring—this is your book.
Recommended If You Like:
- Agatha Christie (especially Poirot and Miss Marple)
- Anthony Horowitz’s Magpie Murders and Moonflower Murders
- Kate Atkinson’s Case Histories
- Sophie Hannah’s Poirot continuations
- Janice Hallett’s The Appeal
The Susan Ryeland Series in Order
- Magpie Murders (2016) – The story that introduced us to Susan Ryeland and Alan Conway’s Pünd.
- Moonflower Murders (2020) – A clever mystery within a mystery set in a sinister hotel in Crete.
- Marble Hall Murders (2025) – The dazzling metafictional finale set in the South of France.
