Fans of Nancy Atherton’s Aunt Dimity series enjoy tagging along (and snacking along—every book in the series includes a recipe) with heroine Lori Shepherd on all her adventures, from the Colorado mountains to the beaches of New Zealand. But this reader prefers any installment that finds Lori in her beloved English Costwolds. Just as the lanes turn and curve to reveal tranquil scenes such as docile grazing sheep and wildflower-laden meadows, every turn of the page reveals yet another charming glimpse into the sometimes not-so-tranquil lives of the good people of Finch. 

In this 16th installment of Atherton’s delightful series featuring the special relationship between the deceased Aunt Dimity and her niece, devoted amateur sleuth Lori, things are once again looking absolutely unmanageable in the village of Finch. Aunt Dimity and the Family Tree begins when Lori’s father-in-law, William, moves to the village with plans to purchase and raise sheep on a diamond-in-the-rough estate. Through the efforts of skilled restorers, builders and plumbers, the house and grounds begin to come spectacularly together as the life of a beloved villager, Sally Pyne, falls spectacularly apart. While on holiday, Mrs. Pyne had such a marvelous time in Mexico that she forgot herself . . . quite literally. She met a worldly, dashing gentleman and led him to believe she was Lady Pyne in her home country, complete with a sprawling country estate and staff of servants. Instead, Sally is the proprietor of the village tearoom with only her spirited granddaughter Rainey as “the help” —and this mysterious man in on his way to visit her “estate.”

Sally turns to Lori and William for help. Lori, as is ritual, turns to the blue journal tucked neatly on a shelf in her study where she finds wisdom in the words of Aunt Dimity. A clever plan is soon hatched and all could be well again in the sleepy village . . . except for the odd behavior of the servants on William’s estate. Perhaps the original family members themselves have not yet moved out? Looks like Lori and Aunt Dimity have another mystery in Finch.

Cozy and charming as a cup of Earl Grey, Aunt Dimity and the Family Tree is a novel to be savored.

The first thing that Flavia de Luce, Alan Bradley’s 11-year-old sleuth, does in his latest mystery is set a gypsy fortune teller’s tent on fire. It gets worse from there, but this is a Flavia de Luce novel. So there’s a nasty bludgeoning followed by a gruesomely inventive murder and the discovery of yet another corpse, all on the de Luce property. We can count on the undaunted Flavia to get to the bottom of these crimes.

Because she’s an expert in poisons, which she sometimes uses to get non-lethal revenge on her mean sisters Ophelia and Daphne, Flavia solves her crimes through chemistry. The title may refer to the persistent and unexpected smell of fish around both crime scenes and persons of interest. But as Flavia knows, a fishy smell doesn’t necessarily mean fish. And let’s not forget the pair of fox andirons that belonged to Flavia’s long-dead Mum, Harriet. They seem heavy enough to smash in a skull or two.

A Red Herring Without Mustard is as hilarious, gripping and sad as the previous books in this enjoyable series. The comedy comes from a little girl pulling one over on a bunch of clueless grown-ups as she pretends to be as clueless as they are. It’s gripping because it’s a well-paced murder mystery, and it’s sad because Flavia’s family is so messed up. Her sisters truly, deeply, inexplicably hate her. Her father, as inurned in grief over his wife as ever, now has the extra burden of trying to keep up Buckshaw, the de Luce’s great pile of a house, and the acreage it sits on. It’s gotten to the point where he’s auctioning off the family silver—another detail the reader should keep in mind.

Bradley displays his usual insight into Flavia’s character, though I’ve always suspected the books are from the point of view of an old lady recalling an unusually interesting childhood, like Mattie in True Grit. Bradley’s also good with his minor characters, a colorful bunch that includes Dogger, the shell-shocked factotum; Mrs. Mullet, the de Luces’ voluble, no-nonsense cook; and Inspector Hewitt, the stoic detective who’ll never admit how much Flavia helps his cases. A Red Herring Without Mustard introduces the deeply troubled Bull family and Porcelain, the unstable granddaughter of the fortuneteller. The requisite, well, red herrings, are numerous enough to keep the reader guessing. Once again, Bradley succeeds. And so, of course, does Flavia.

Seems there’s a Black Sheep Knitting Shop just around the corner near the seaside in Cape Ann, Massachusetts. Shop owner Maggie Messina has played the role of amateur sleuth before, a couple of times to be exact, and in author Anne Canadeo’s third knitting conundrum, A Stitch Before Dying, Maggie sets out to lead a knitting class during a “Creative Spirit Weekend” at a pricey New Age spa in Western Massachusetts, where positive thinking and good karma rule the day.

Maggie and the Black Sheep Knitters—her close friends Lucy, Dana, Suzanne, and Phoebe—get to share that weekend at the Crystal Lake Spa, courtesy of Maggie’s friend Nadine, who works there and needs a fill-in teacher. Intrigued by the promised participation of the spa’s new owner, Dr. Max Flemming, whose star has been burnished after an appearance on “Oprah,” the group sets out to experience a weekend of yoga, tai chi and enlightenment in a luxury setting. Instead, they encounter a deadly moonlight meditation, along with some decidedly unholistic activities and assignations.

Also making appearances are spa business manager Anne; her angry son, Brian; Joy, a yoga teacher who has a history with Dr. Max; assorted weekend New Agers, including former model Shannon; Curtis, a writer whose iPhone is busy taking surreptitious photos; and Rita and Walter, an elderly couple with attitude. Some participants seem to be on a possible investors’ list for Dr. Max’s planned spa expansion.

Maggie’s workshop combines “mindful knitting” with yoga, asking that guests “slow down and focus,” while encouraging “relaxation and contemplation” and “a kinder, gentler attitude.” Instead, suspiciously unkind intentions begin to surface, after one of the guests is found dead in a mountain hut. As the weekend wears on, the venal appears to overtake the cosmic, and tensions escalate. The Black Sheepers sometimes resemble eight-year-olds rather than adults, afraid of every twig, tree and unfamiliar corridor, but they share helpful ideas and clues in their close-knit group. A second death casts any remaining serenity to the winds, as guests vie to be the first ones out the door and safely home.

Maggie counts her stitches and casts on all the clues that are accumulating, and it’s not surprising to discover that the final, deciding clue has been hiding in her possession all along. It’s only a matter of time before she unravels the skein of problems and works out a pattern that solves the crime.

When the word “Amish” comes up, it brings a slew of quick impressions: quiet, innocent, simple, non-violent. In Clouds Without Rain, the third in P.L. Gaus’s Amish-Country mystery series (originally published by Ohio State University Press) the author has added a slightly different shading to one particular Amish community, one that is sure to remain in readers’ minds for a long time.

Michael Branden, professor of Civil War history in a local college and newly deputized in the Holmes County, Ohio, sheriff’s office, is clopping about in a borrowed horse and buggy in Amish garb, seeking to apprehend a couple of teenagers in Amish dress who are robbing “the Peaceful Ones” as they travel in their slow-moving vehicles. His part-time undercover work is interrupted by a deadly crash between a semitrailer rig and a horse-drawn vehicle. Branden begins to work with sheriff’s deputies on the incident, one that comes to look more like a homicide than an accident, and his two assignments begin to intersect.

Branden gets better acquainted with a newly appointed Amish bishop, whose intellect and intentions are anything but simple, as well as members of the religious community he leads. Their deep roots in the land are matched against a powerful money-making land scheme certain to test the group’s ethical and religious underpinnings. Branden’s role as an “outsider” gives him a curious advantage, as he goes beneath a placid-seeming exterior of the Amish community to understand the effect that disaffected youth, warring religious factions and the siren call of big money have on the group, increasingly enmeshed in the modern world they try to avoid.

Gaus himself has lived in Ohio and written about Amish Country for more than 30 years. In his own online “Ohio Amish Journal,” the author explains that his aim is “to illuminate Amish culture as much as possible in the context of a mystery story.” His remarkable prose reflects the deceptively simple, sometimes stark lifestyle of these religious folk, with its affecting descriptions of clothes drying on a line, crops wilting in the heat of a flat summer sun, and the beauty of an Amish table, where “the polished lazy Susan held a pitcher of water, two glasses, a bowl of chipped ice, slices of a fruit-nut bread, and apple butter in a canning jar.”

This series is all about surfaces and the deep waters that may lie beneath, in a culture of contrasts where old and new share a sometimes uneasy co-existence.