My powers of deduction

I just finished listening to a murder mystery. If we were looking at a pre-October 23, 2001 calendar, I would say it was a book on tape. Since today is clearly after that aforementioned date, we need to change the lexicon to book on byte. The date is relevant here because 10/23/01 is the date that the original iPod was introduced. I think Apple missed a great opportunity for an exceedingly memorable (and definitely marketable) numerical palindrome; the iPod should have been introduced the day before. Anyway, I can't remember the last time I actually listened to music on my iPod rather than a book or podcast. Hmm, maybe I'll nickname my iPod the iPage ... is that appropo since it's a recording of a book rather than a printing ... ?

But back to the book, In the Presence of the Enemy by Elizabeth George. It was, as usual with all her books, a good read—er, listen. The solution to the murder is plausible and no rabbits-via-hats are ever needed to pull it all together at the end. I got away from reading murder mysteries for that reason: far too often I got to the final chapter only to learn that it was because the moon was full, the coffee was decaf, and the woman behind the reception desk wore hoops instead of studs, that the detective was able to determine how the circus clown murdered the chicken-eater with the sword swallower's nail clippers. Well, Ms. George never pulls stunts like that.

I've run into so many contrived whodunits that I have a hard time setting aside my doubts when I come upon what I think are errors in dialogue or description. I wonder how the author and editor missed that boo-boo. Well, duh, it's a clue not an error. Maybe I'm too critical to enjoy a mystery considering that my mornings are often spent looking for—and finding—typos on cereal boxes.