HISTORICAL crime fiction can be uniquely satisfying, in the hands of a writer who knows what they’re doing. My favourite history-mystery this year, in a strong field, was The Scream Of Sins by Chris Nickson (Severn House, £21.99), in which a hard winter is on the way in Leeds, in 1824, as Simon Westow, professional finder of stolen objects, is hired to retrieve some missing documents.

They belonged to a notorious city magistrate, responsible for the deaths and transportations of many Luddites and other dissidents. The old man’s dead, but his son fears that publication of his papers could bring disgrace on the whole family.

Simon is distracted from this job by news from his assistant, former street-girl Jane, who has heard an unbearable story of cruelty from a homeless child. If half of what they’re being told is true, this is going to be the worst case they've ever been involved in.

The sixth in this impressive series, this one is possibly the best, and certainly, as the author says in an afterword, the “darkest.” But not finally bleak; Nickson’s subjects are honour, obligation and solidarity, and why those at or near the bottom of the heap might take them more seriously than their betters do.

Most of the crime novels I receive are set in Britain, Ireland or the United States, but taking a trip to another, less familiar part of the world can be one of the genre’s greatest pleasures.

Professor Mudgood, the murder victim in Anita Nair’s Hot Stage (Bitter Lemon Press, £9.99), was much respected in life, though not much loved. The book takes place in 2012, and the professor was also a leading critic of India’s growing Hindu nationalist, ultra-right politics. All the same, Assistant Commissioner Gowda of the Bangalore police doesn’t think this one has the feel of a political crime. Too many of the dead man’s relatives and associates are hiding things, any of which might have provided a reason for killing him.

Gowda’s team must descend into the violent underworld of a city undergoing rapid change as the rampant capitalism of “New India” fractures old communities and the democratic assumptions of the post-independence era. Any police procedural with such a setting is sure to be an interesting read, and when written by someone as accomplished as Nair it is immersive and irresistible.

Every Christmas (and I hope Morning Star readers will forgive me) I pause from reading books for reviewing in these pages, and pick out something I fancy from a pile of classic crime novels. This time last year I chose Murder By Matchlight, by ECR Lorac, one of the pseudonyms of Edith Caroline Rivet. Originally published in 1945, it was reissued in 2018 by the British Library at £8.99.

Its central crime is a murder during a World War II blackout, in the open air in Regent’s Park, investigated by DCI Macdonald. Of all police detectives, modern or vintage, I think the modest and affable Macdonald may be the one who provides readers with the best company.

Twelve months on, I would rate this as not just one of my most-loved books of the year, but of all my years. Lorac’s London atmosphere is almost palpable. Her writing is swift and economical but never hurried or perfunctory. The whodunnit puzzle is decent and the plotting gripping. And the characters — especially in the flats that are the centre of the investigation, mostly inhabited by Variety folk — are excellently filled out.

Damn! After all that I have reviewed it, haven’t I?