The Granite City is ready to burn, and all it takes is a single spark . . .

In the heat of a blistering summer, Aberdeen’s police are struggling: half the force is off sick, leave has been cancelled, someone’s firebombed a hotel full of migrants, and there’s a massive protest march happening this Saturday.

With officers dropping like flies, Detective Inspector Logan McRae is forced to juggle cases and run a major murder investigation with a skeleton staff of misfits, idiots and malingerers until the top brass can arrange back-up from other divisions.

It doesn’t help that the Aberdeen Examiner has just been bought by Natasha Agapova, a tabloid media tycoon hell-bent on blaming local police for everything. And she’s more than happy to fan the flames.

But, as bad as everything seems, it’s all about to get much, much worse . . .

'It is past the half-hour. My time is coming nearer with every tick of the clock.' Horace Manning, scientist, recluse and 'closed book' even to his friends is found dead in his study at 4am, following a dinner in honour of his daughter Helen's engagement. An ivory-handled carving knife rests between his shoulder blades as the houseguests gather about to witness the awful crime. The telephone line has been sabotaged; a calculated murder has been committed. Rewinding twelve hours, the events of the afternoon and evening unfold, along with a multitude of motives from a closed cast of suspects and clues until the narrative reaches 4am again - then races on to its riveting conclusion at 4pm (twice round the clock). First published in 1935, this is a lively and unpretentious mystery thriller and a true lost gem of the Golden Age of crime writing.