It is the summer of 1936 and actress Nina Land interrupts an attempted murder in a London hotel room. Only she and the woman being attacked have seen the murderer’s face. Nina soon realises this was not a random attack: it was the Tie-Pin Killer, the man dubbed “the new Ripper”. Unless she can help catch him, he will strike again. And now that he knows her face, what is going to stop him from coming after her? And what about the woman who ran away? How can she be found and helped?

This is far from a straightforward historical crime romp. Curtain Call is a wonderfully elegant, witty and self-aware novel, peopled by beautifully drawn, droll characters worthy of a Woody Allen film (Bullets Over Bloomsbury, anyone?). I was initially concerned that it was going to be one of those novels where you wish there were a “family tree” cast of characters at the beginning to refer back to. Quinn is managing an ambitiously large cast but he does so with agility. It’s clear from the outset that there is going to be a series of interlinked plotlines which will eventually cross. It’s also clear that at some point we will meet the Tie-Pin Killer but not necessarily know who he is.

There are three key characters, all circling around one another. Society portrait artist Stephen Wyley, a man pleasingly conscious of his own shortcomings and insecurities, is having an affair with Nina. It’s his marital status that prevents Nina from going to the police with the case – until eventually she persuades him to sketch a picture of the attacker based on her description.

Meanwhile washed-up egomaniac theatre critic Jimmy Erskine(monstrous, but also wonderful, Boris Johnson-style), desperate to be painted by Wyley and occasionally crossing over with him socially, risks everything by trying to find young men in dangerous places late at night. The third point in the triangle is Jimmy’s ambitious young assistant, Tom, whose accidental meeting with Madeleine Farewell – the woman attacked in the hotel – unwittingly brings everything together.

Quinn does a fine job of making us care about what happens to all these people, while painting an engaging and believable portrait of late 1930s society London, with its guilty hedonism, brutal homophobia and the threat of homegrown fascism always present. What I particularly enjoyed was how Quinn relishes playing with “types”. Erskine has the potential to become a cardboard cut-out self-loathing bully. But just when he appears to be at his most irritating, he redeems himself by cooking for all his friends (although Tom has to serve the wine, obviously). Similarly, the incipient romance between Tom and Madeleine could come across as sentimental and predictable, but Quinn doesn’t make it too easy for them.

In short, this is an utterly delightful read, made to appear easy, effortless and brilliantly suspenseful, while never becoming predictable or cosy. Fans of BBC 1’s recent adaptation of Mapp and Lucia will appreciate its wit, period dialogue and attention to aesthetics. There’s plenty here, too, for aficionados of Sarah Waters: the same lightness of touch, rich historical detail and carefully calculated suspense. This is not a postmodern novel, nor is it a pastiche of the classic crime novels of the 1930s but it’s close to a cross between the two while being in a class all of its own. I can’t recommend this book highly enough.

Curtain Call is published by Jonathan Cape (£12.99). Click here to buy it for £9.99