Vish Puri runs the Most Private Investigating Agency in the world's most populated city, Delhi. He dresses nattily in his trademark safari suit that he orders from a bespoke Savile Row tailor, and wears a Sandown cap purchased from a London hatter. But unlike Poroit, he enjoys all the foods that are not good for him, much to the dismay of his wife Rumpi. She calls him affectionately 'Chubby', as do his friends at the Gymkhana Club.

In The Man Who died Laughing Puri is confronted with the baffling case of the murder of a scientist, the member of a laughing club. During an early morning meeting of the club under a tree in the tony park along Rajpath, an apparition of the goddess Kali suddenly appeared among the gathered members and stabbed Dr. Suresh Jha, better known across India as the Guru Buster.

Jha was a rationalist. He felt that India will never reach its potential until the country's middle class ceases to tolerate the inhuman conditions the majority of their fellow countrymen and women must endure. He once stated that "India will remain a feudal society as long as people continue to believe their destinies are governed by some non-existent higher power, whether it be God, Allah, or Vishnu, and don't take control of their lives for themselves."

Such comments hardly made him popular among Dilli-wallahs, as Delhiites are known. Jha particularly wanted to wean his fellow Indians, regardless of religious affiliation, of blindly following the dictates of fake gurus, whose magic tricks create the illusion of their supposed powers.

Now, this sounds all very serious, but Hall is a writer who turns even the most sinister aspects into gentle satire and affectionate humor. He captures the atmosphere of the many varied parts of Delhi through the eyes of Puri and those with whom he works. As the detective and his many helpers go about tracking down the killer, Delhi is revealed to us with all its warts, from biting heat to rundown neighborhoods in which the poor of the city live in shacks and lean-tos among filth and flies. But we also meet the residents and enter the homes in the 'colonies' as the city's gated upper-class communities are known.

Having also read and enjoyed Hall's other Puri book, The case of the Missing Servant, I feel by now I know Delhi, its beauty, but also its traffic-chocked roads, and the never-ending pollution that covers the entire city. Yet, as described by Hall, the teaming city, its noise and dirt, its varied districts all add up to an exciting place to inhabit. Hall also has a wonderful ear for the language of his Indian characters. Although English is an official language of India, it has a peculiar syntax and cadence that is both charming and frustrating at the same time. The early comedy of Russell Peters, which played on his ethnicity, made us familiar with this cadence and syntax. It was the kind of comedy that in Vish Puri's circles is known as non-veg jokes.

As in The Missing Servant, in this new novel Puri once again slowly unravels the many strands of just how a crime was executed. In this case one that eventually did in Dr. Jha. In the process our intrepid detective introduces the readers to a cornucopia of Indian food and a variety of customs, including funeral rites. As the story unfolds the reader, consequently, also meets some very unusual characters.

As in the first Vish Puri novel, Puri has a little bit of competition in solving crimes from his very own mummy-ji. The widow of a former police officer, she defies her son and does some gumshoeing of her own. In The Man who died Laughing, mummy-ji brings Rumpi into her sleuthing, which adds to the humor and the fun of this novel. But it is not all fun and games. Hall has a way of digging beneath the surface of what makes India India and so touches on some very controversial aspects of the country, least of which is bribery rampant at every level of society.

The Man who dies Laughing opens with such a case. An American of Indian descent seeks Puri out because he is outraged, justly so, that he is expected to pay a large bribe to get his children into a private school. Puri makes this American greenhorn familiar with the ways of his ancestors, at the same time solves the bribery attempt and gives the reader insight into why the most populous democracy in the world has trouble moving forward at the pace it should.

I, for one, hope there will be many more Vish Puri novels in the future, for Hall gives us mystery novels that are forward thinking, and at the same time have the charm and eccentricity of the novels of Agatha Christie. Besides, we need a bit of levity, which is abundant in this novel. Higher praise I cannot hand out.

One final note. There is an excellent glossary at the end of the book that clarifies Indian expressions. It alleviates readers worries about the meaning of words and phrases, or the types of foods Puri loves to eat.