By Charles Finch
Getting back from a continental honeymoon together with his lifelong pal and new spouse, girl Jane gray, Charles Lenox is requested through a colleague in Parliament to refer to within the homicide of a footman, bludgeoned to loss of life with a brick. His research uncovers either unsettling evidence concerning the relations he served and an odd, moment id that the footman himself cultivated.
Going into the boxing golf equipment and public homes, the Mayfair mansions and servants' sector of Victorian London, Lenox progressively realizes that an outdated pal can be implicated within the footman's loss of life. quickly a suspect is arrested, yet Lenox has his doubts. Desperately attempting to stability the hole of Parliament and what he feels certain is a gloomy mystery, he quickly discovers that the killer is an individual shockingly innocuous—who can be ready to spill blood back, even a detective's.
In Detective Lenox, woman gray, and their circle of shut affiliates, Charles Finch has created a forged of inviting, flesh-andblood characters. His evolving sequence, with its willing eye for interval aspect and razor-sharp plotting, bargains readers an unheard of model of allure, sophistication, and suspense.
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Extra info for A Stranger in Mayfair (Charles Lenox Mystery, Book 4)
Robin squeezed my arm. ” “You and me quitters? ” Half the light fixtures had been removed from the lounge. The room was a cave. As my eyes adjusted, I made out the overstuffed leather and green plaid seating. Here, too, the artwork was gone. Same for the big black Steinway with its gigantic brandy snifter for tips. Tinny music seeped into the room from an unseen speaker. An easy-listening FM station. As we stood waiting to be seated, Barry Manilow was replaced by a commercial for auto insurance.
Sure,” he said. ” I followed him back to the station, where he called a few more security companies with no success. I used the time to check for messages. Despite the joys of mechanization, I keep an answering service because I like talking to actual people. Lucette, one of the more durable operators, said, “Hey, Dr. Delaware. ” A family court judge I’d never heard of wanted to confer about a custody case. His surname had lots of consonants and I had her spell it. The second call was from a Glendale pediatrician who’d interned at Western Pediatric back when I was a psych fellow.
Short dress. The flow of white silk. Same for the blood-and-gore-splotched white scarf that swaddled what had once been a face. One backless silver shoe remained in place. What had once been the face was a clotted horror. Milo said, “You just turned a really bad color. ” “I saw her from nine to nine thirty. She was young—twenty-five or so, sat ten feet from Robin and me. Extremely pretty, big dark eyes, but I can’t tell you about her hair because it was completely covered by the scarf. She was wearing a diamond watch, carried a white silk clutch, smoked a cigarette in an ivory holder and used a matching lighter.