Frances Kirkwood Crane (1896-1981) wrote 26 mysteries between 1941 and 1965 with private investigator Pat Abbott and his wife Jean in the crime-solving role. The Abbotts were based in San Francisco but travelled constantly so the stories are set in a range of locales. Pat and Jean are a good deal like Pam and Jerry North, who were their chronological contemporaries.

The seventh title in the series finds the duo in World War II New Orleans where Pat is serving in the Navy. Housing is no easier to find in New Orleans than anywhere else during that difficult time so the Cranes are grateful for the opportunity to rent an apartment in a family home, where one of his colleagues is staying with his aunt and other relatives. The old residence in the heart of the French Quarter drips with atmosphere and antiques. The assortment of kith and kin pushed together for longer than usual creates tension on multiple levels, which Jean is slowly sorting through.

Late one night Jean finds the lifeless body of Helen Clary, the wife of Roger Clary, Pat’s Navy colleague. When Jean runs for help, she receives a heavy blow to her head that renders her unconscious. Roger Clary finds her as he returns from his shift at the Navy medical center. Jean’s memory of the incident is hazy.

Helen does not survive and her nurse has disappeared. The police consider the death suspicious and focus on the missing nurse and on Roger. Helen had inherited wealth, was quite ill, and Roger was believed to have acquired another love interest. The police captain learns about Pat’s investigative experience and pulls him into the case, to the great resentment of the Clary family.

The secrets and conflicts within this family are myriad. Pat is convinced one is guilty and then evidence points to another but he never shares the police belief that Roger killed his wife. The last two chapters are packed with twists and surprises.

I liked this Crane mystery better than the first one I read. The New Orleans detail is authentic; it adds interest to the book. A map of the house and its floors would have been helpful, though, as much of the plot depends on understanding who was where and when. A true New Orleans native, Captain Jonas of the police is obsessed with his food and schedules interviews and such around his restaurant reservations. I didn’t guess the culprit; the motive is convoluted and I am on the fence about its credibility. A good but not outstanding read.