Having one of her mystery novels made into a movie is good for Maggie Kelly's career -- in theory. When she arrives at the English manor house that's being used as a location -- with her once-fictional, now flesh-and-blood hero Alexandre, Viscount Saint Just, and his sidekick in tow -- Maggie learns quickly how dubious a distinction being adapted for the screen really is.

As "just" the writer, she's subjected to disrespect from the entire company, from the producer and director to the cast and screenwriter. It's almost as bad as spending time with her family! Then things go from merely awful to terrible -- a rainstorm floods the property, effectively cutting them off from civilization, and several members of the production team turn up dead.

Will someone else be next, or will the culprit be caught in time? Only Saint Just knows for sure!

Michaels has a true flair for observant characterizations, witty dialogue and high crime, and Saint Just is simply delicious. Really good fun. (Dec., 277 pp., $14.00)
Reviewed by: 
Catherine Witmer