The Tailor

I’ll admit, I was skeptical when I saw *The Tailor* framed as a ‘quiet’ mystery—too often, that’s code for *slow*. But Sullivan proves that quiet can be *lethal*. From the opening scene, where a tailor’s corpse is discovered in a train loo (a setting so banal it’s unsettling), the story hooks you with its sheer *specificity*. This isn’t a whodunit where the suspect pool is a roster of cartoonish villains; it’s a *why*-dunit, where the motive is as intricately constructed as the victim’s bespoke suits. DS George Cross, our protagonist, is a delight—think Columbo if he traded rumpled raincoats for a wry Bristolian drawl and a knack for psychological chess. His interviews with witnesses aren’t interrogations; they’re *conversations*, laced with just enough ambiguity to keep you guessing. The narration is a double-edged sword. The unnamed reader’s restrained delivery suits Cross’s cerebral approach, and their handling of the detective’s sarcastic asides is pitch-perfect. But in scenes with multiple characters—especially the tailor’s prickly colleagues—the lack of distinct vocal textures occasionally muddies the dialogue. A sharper editorial pass on pacing might’ve helped too; the midsection sags slightly as Cross untangles financial records, though Sullivan redeems it with a third-act twist that’s both inevitable and shocking. What lingers isn’t the violence (there’s surprisingly little) but the eerie precision of the crime. This is a mystery for listeners who prefer their thrills *sewn* into the plot, not bludgeoned in. If you’ve ever marveled at how a single stitch can hold a garment together—or unravel it—you’ll appreciate *The Tailor*’s deadly craftsmanship.