“Perish the thought,” Ruth said. The tapping of her high heels made a quick obligato to his footsteps as they moved off down the street, and he observed, she walked careful inches apart from him. “Perish radar. Perish everything that does away with witches and warlocks and wonders. Step on a crack, break your mother’s back,” she singsonged cheerfully, picking her way across a stretch of broken pavement, and then let out a small yelp. “Oh, poor mother! But that wasn’t my fault, was it? There are more cracks than pavement here.”

I have an idea I may have read this book already, many years ago, because one scene in it had stuck in my mind over time – though it’s possible someone else could have written a similar scene in another book. But the name of the author, Stanley Ellin, seemed familiar to me. So I bought The Eighth Circle. And I’m very glad I did. I have a new author for my short shelf of favorites.

The hero of The Eighth Circle (published 1958) is Murray Kirk, proprietor of a high-end New York detective agency. Their approach is pure business – no toughs, no guns, no rough stuff. Just the discreet gathering of sordid information. Murray is a cynic; he’s seen enough private dirt to be convinced that everybody’s corrupt. There is no idealism left in Murray Kirk.

So when a lawyer friend approaches him with a case involving a policeman accused of corruption, Murray isn’t interested at first. Until he catches sight of the lawyer’s beautiful sister, who’s engaged to the accused cop. Murray is suddenly head over heels in love, and he has a plan – take the job, but undercut the case. Prove the cop’s guilt. Then the girl will throw him over, and Murray will be there to comfort her.

But in the event, worldly, disillusioned Murray Kirk has a few things to learn about life and the human heart after all.

The Eighth Circle (the reference is to the eighth circle of Hell, where liars, flatterers, and grifters find their doom) is not only an interesting mystery story, but a very fine novel in its own right. The prose resonates, the characters are complex, and the dialogue sparkles. The ending even surprised me. Reading this book was an unalloyed pleasure, and I recommend it to one and all.

I’m embarrassed I wasn’t better aware of Stanley Ellin – particularly if (as is likely) I’d read this book before. He’s highly regarded by critics, and I’ll be reading more of him.