Michaelhouse College entered 1358 in financial shambles thank to Wynewyk's creative accounting in A Vein of Deceit. Attempting to rebalance the books, Master Langerlee took on more students and the food - historically poor - has become scarce as well. He also accepted the patronage of wealthy and repellent Emma de Colvyll who, in exchange for masses said for her late husband, promised to replace the leaking Michaelhouse roof. Unfortunately for Matthew Bartholomew, his college's deal meant he was now private physician to the devil - a cranky devil who doesn't want her infected tooth pulled, and whose romance-reading granddaughter has set her sights on the doctor. Meanwhile, Cambridge was, for once, free of town/gown battles, but only because there was a war of jokes between the colleges and the less-affluent hostels. Oh, and someone was stealing pilgrims' badges. Just an ordinary winter in Cambridge.
Well, until someone found John Drax's body behind the tiles intended for the Michaelhouse roof, a death quickly followed by that of Emma de Colvyll's daughter. Are these deaths connected to the thefts, the war of practical jokes, or both? Brother Michael, as Senior Proctor, needs to find out before the college/hostel conflict spreads from the University to the town and, as usual, enlists Matthew's help.
As a mystery, The Killer of Pilgrims is OK. Gregory supported her conclusion and I didn't guess the culprit right away, but the final scene was a bit far fetched and the solution wasn't particular memorable. As entertainment, however, it ranks a little higher. There's plenty of action, and several well-integrated comic scenes, including one where four physicians (three of them quite drunk) experiment with pitch, oil, and assorted chemicals in an attempt to create a light brighter and steadier than a candle. Needless to say, it does not go well, but the disaster made me laugh on my commute home.
Friday, October 17, 2014
Monday, October 6, 2014
Innocent Victims
Warning - spoilers
How reliable is any narrator? I enjoy books, particularly mysteries, told by an unreliable narrator, but isn't any non-omniscient narrator at least somewhat unreliable? Minette Walters's novels (with the exception of The Chameleon's Shadow) aren't exactly unreliable, but they're working with limited information. Innocent Victims isn't a novel but a pair of novellas, both written as Book Week promotions but with different purposes. Chickenfeed, the fictionalized retelling of a 1924 murder case, is a quick read meant to encourage less-fluent readers into trying fiction. It's a testament to Walters' skill that I didn't notice how simple the vocabulary and structure were until I read The Tinder Box, which was written to tempt readers into trying new genres.
Chickenfeed's main narrator is Norman Thorne, a teenager recently demobbed from WWI who catches the eye of Elsie Cameron, a volatile and unstable young woman. When he loses his job as a mechanic, he decides to open a chicken farm several miles from London, and they plan to marry once the farm is successful. Norman had bought his farm impulsively, though, and two years later, it's still losing money. Worse than that, he's fallen out of love with Elsie (if he ever was in love with her) and in love with Bessie Coldicott while Elsie's letters and occasional visits show her declining mental state. One winter night, Elsie, who'd convinced herself she was pregnant, traveled to Norman's farm where she was discovered hanging from the rafters in his shack. Norman claimed that he'd been out and that Elsie had probably mean to scare him but had accidentally knocked over the chair she was standing on and died as a result. Was that the truth? Maybe - he kept to his story through the investigation and his trial, but how believable is that story?
Siobhan Lavenham can't reliably narrate The Tindebox because she's been lied to. Her neighbor, Patrick O'Riordan allegedly killed an old women for whom he made some repairs and her nurse, and partially at Patrick's mother's request, Siobhan became his only defender. It's easy for her, actually - although she's lace curtain and the O'Riordans are clearly shanty, Biddy O'Riordan appealed to Siobahn's Irishness - and the dead woman's heirs were unpleasant and bigoted. What Biddy didn't do was tell Siobahn Patrick's violent history or how she and her husband became disabled. Eventually, the O'Riordan's deceptions and a series of misunderstandings between Siobhan and her other neighbors led to tragedy, but, as we find out, the victims and criminals are not whom we suspect.
How reliable is any narrator? I enjoy books, particularly mysteries, told by an unreliable narrator, but isn't any non-omniscient narrator at least somewhat unreliable? Minette Walters's novels (with the exception of The Chameleon's Shadow) aren't exactly unreliable, but they're working with limited information. Innocent Victims isn't a novel but a pair of novellas, both written as Book Week promotions but with different purposes. Chickenfeed, the fictionalized retelling of a 1924 murder case, is a quick read meant to encourage less-fluent readers into trying fiction. It's a testament to Walters' skill that I didn't notice how simple the vocabulary and structure were until I read The Tinder Box, which was written to tempt readers into trying new genres.
Chickenfeed's main narrator is Norman Thorne, a teenager recently demobbed from WWI who catches the eye of Elsie Cameron, a volatile and unstable young woman. When he loses his job as a mechanic, he decides to open a chicken farm several miles from London, and they plan to marry once the farm is successful. Norman had bought his farm impulsively, though, and two years later, it's still losing money. Worse than that, he's fallen out of love with Elsie (if he ever was in love with her) and in love with Bessie Coldicott while Elsie's letters and occasional visits show her declining mental state. One winter night, Elsie, who'd convinced herself she was pregnant, traveled to Norman's farm where she was discovered hanging from the rafters in his shack. Norman claimed that he'd been out and that Elsie had probably mean to scare him but had accidentally knocked over the chair she was standing on and died as a result. Was that the truth? Maybe - he kept to his story through the investigation and his trial, but how believable is that story?
Siobhan Lavenham can't reliably narrate The Tindebox because she's been lied to. Her neighbor, Patrick O'Riordan allegedly killed an old women for whom he made some repairs and her nurse, and partially at Patrick's mother's request, Siobhan became his only defender. It's easy for her, actually - although she's lace curtain and the O'Riordans are clearly shanty, Biddy O'Riordan appealed to Siobahn's Irishness - and the dead woman's heirs were unpleasant and bigoted. What Biddy didn't do was tell Siobahn Patrick's violent history or how she and her husband became disabled. Eventually, the O'Riordan's deceptions and a series of misunderstandings between Siobhan and her other neighbors led to tragedy, but, as we find out, the victims and criminals are not whom we suspect.
Monday, September 29, 2014
V is for Vengeance
Kinsey Milhone never thought that stocking up on panties at Nordstrom's would lead to someone breaking her nose on her 38th birthday, but V is for Vengeance leads her from the lingerie department to a corrective rhinoplasty. As she's browsing the racks on an April afternoon, Kinsey sees an older woman slip some silk pajamas into her shopping bag. She alerts the store staff who apprehend the shoplifter, but not the thief's younger accomplice who nearly runs down Kinsey in the parking lot. That evening, Kinsey has a drink at Rosie's with the Nordstrom's employee who helped capture the shoplifter and thinks that's the end of the story.
Of course it's not the end, because otherwise this would be a very short book. A few days later, Kinsey reads Audrey Vance's obituary and recognizes the dead woman as the shoplifter. Her landlord Henry is in Michigan to be with his sister Nell who's recovering from surgery, so his brother William - hypochondriac and husband to the imperious Rosie - partially fills his role here. He's not particularly insightful, but he has developed a funeral-going hobby and drags Kinsey along to Audrey's funeral where she meets Audrey's fiancé. Marvin Striker doesn't believe that Audrey committed suicide, so he hires Kinsey to find out who killed her. Unfortunately, he doesn't want to believe that Audrey was a con woman and professional thief and fires Kinsey who continues the investigation on her own time.
Like Marcia Muller, Sue Grafton has employed a shifting POV in her recent novels. Unlike Muller, whose alternate narrators are Sharon McCone's fellow investigators, Grafton gives her criminal a voice. Lorenzo Dante is the mobster out of central casting - suave, vaguely dangerous, and with a veneer of respectability, and that whiff of danger may be what attracts Nora Vogelsong, the bored wife of a Hollywood attorney. It's not clear until near the end of V is for Vengeance how those two fit into the plot, or why the burglar who taught Kinsey to pick locks and an irritating TV reporter keep showing up. Grafton, however, is an experienced mystery writer and a clever plotter, so the coincidences never feel forced. The Millhone series started out strong but (as many series do) slumped a bit around the twelfth book. Maybe it's the shifting POV, but Grafton's last three books have been among her best (my favorite is still C is for Corpse). I'm glad I waited until W is for Wasted came out in paperback before buying V is for Vengeance, because now I can read the two nearly back-to-back.
Of course it's not the end, because otherwise this would be a very short book. A few days later, Kinsey reads Audrey Vance's obituary and recognizes the dead woman as the shoplifter. Her landlord Henry is in Michigan to be with his sister Nell who's recovering from surgery, so his brother William - hypochondriac and husband to the imperious Rosie - partially fills his role here. He's not particularly insightful, but he has developed a funeral-going hobby and drags Kinsey along to Audrey's funeral where she meets Audrey's fiancé. Marvin Striker doesn't believe that Audrey committed suicide, so he hires Kinsey to find out who killed her. Unfortunately, he doesn't want to believe that Audrey was a con woman and professional thief and fires Kinsey who continues the investigation on her own time.
Like Marcia Muller, Sue Grafton has employed a shifting POV in her recent novels. Unlike Muller, whose alternate narrators are Sharon McCone's fellow investigators, Grafton gives her criminal a voice. Lorenzo Dante is the mobster out of central casting - suave, vaguely dangerous, and with a veneer of respectability, and that whiff of danger may be what attracts Nora Vogelsong, the bored wife of a Hollywood attorney. It's not clear until near the end of V is for Vengeance how those two fit into the plot, or why the burglar who taught Kinsey to pick locks and an irritating TV reporter keep showing up. Grafton, however, is an experienced mystery writer and a clever plotter, so the coincidences never feel forced. The Millhone series started out strong but (as many series do) slumped a bit around the twelfth book. Maybe it's the shifting POV, but Grafton's last three books have been among her best (my favorite is still C is for Corpse). I'm glad I waited until W is for Wasted came out in paperback before buying V is for Vengeance, because now I can read the two nearly back-to-back.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
The Marseille Caper
Warning - spoiler for The Vintage Caper
Peter Mayle's novels read like his travel books - wonderful meals and beautiful scenery separated by clever character sketches, with a lightweight plot thrown in as a bonus. The Marseille Caper has fewer meals than usual, but Mayle makes up for it with a bit more plot than usual.
The Marseille Caper starts where The Vintage Caper left off, with Francis Reboul asking Sam Levitt how he found and returned Danny Roth's wine collection. Reboul isn't angry that his stolen goods have been illicitly returned, though. Instead, he has a job for Sam and Sam's insurance executive girlfriend, Elena Morales. Reboul is the silent investor in a company competing for the rights to develop a piece of land in Marseille, and he wants Sam to act as his front. Reboul's plan is one of three, and the icy Parisian architect doesn't offer serious competition. Lord Wapping, the vulgar turf accountant who bought a peerage (and a yacht named The Floating Pound), however, has Marseille's planning commissioner in his pocket and a pair of bodyguards who miss beating up people. What does Sam have? Well, Reboul's plan sounds good, plus he has Elena, his journalist friend Phillipe and his girlfriend Mimi, and an Englishwoman of a certain age. They're more than a match for a desperate and bankrupt thug with money. Mayle's books aren't deep, but they're vividly written and a lot of fun, and Sam, Elena, Phillipe, and Reboul are engaging characters. I'm looking forward to Mayle's next Caper.
Peter Mayle's novels read like his travel books - wonderful meals and beautiful scenery separated by clever character sketches, with a lightweight plot thrown in as a bonus. The Marseille Caper has fewer meals than usual, but Mayle makes up for it with a bit more plot than usual.
The Marseille Caper starts where The Vintage Caper left off, with Francis Reboul asking Sam Levitt how he found and returned Danny Roth's wine collection. Reboul isn't angry that his stolen goods have been illicitly returned, though. Instead, he has a job for Sam and Sam's insurance executive girlfriend, Elena Morales. Reboul is the silent investor in a company competing for the rights to develop a piece of land in Marseille, and he wants Sam to act as his front. Reboul's plan is one of three, and the icy Parisian architect doesn't offer serious competition. Lord Wapping, the vulgar turf accountant who bought a peerage (and a yacht named The Floating Pound), however, has Marseille's planning commissioner in his pocket and a pair of bodyguards who miss beating up people. What does Sam have? Well, Reboul's plan sounds good, plus he has Elena, his journalist friend Phillipe and his girlfriend Mimi, and an Englishwoman of a certain age. They're more than a match for a desperate and bankrupt thug with money. Mayle's books aren't deep, but they're vividly written and a lot of fun, and Sam, Elena, Phillipe, and Reboul are engaging characters. I'm looking forward to Mayle's next Caper.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Believing the Lie
Elizabeth George isn't quite back on form, but she's getting there. While not quite up to her late-90s peak, Believing the Lie us her best book since A Traitor to Memory. Ian Cresswell drowns in his uncle, Sir Bernard Fairclough's boathouse in Cumbria. The local coroner decides it's an accidental death, but Fairclough asks Assistant Commissioner Hillier for help. Hillier, of course, summons DI Tommy Lynley to his club, gives him the assignment, and tells him he's on his own - no help from the Yard, and if things go wrong, he was never sent there. Without the Yard's help, Lynley turns to his friends Simon and Deborah St.James to join him, Simon for his forensic expertise and Deborah to surreptitiously investigate Fairclouth's son.
Meanwhile, tabloid reporter Zed Benjamin is also on his way to Cumbria to save his soon-to-be spiked story. Fairclough's son Nick, a recovering addict, has organized a project to restore a pele tower with rehabbing addicts performing the labor as a form of therapy. It's an inspiring tale - but not sexy, at least in the eyes of Zed's editor. Sadly, Zed isn't much of a tabloid investigator, and when he hears that a Scotland Yard detective is also investigating Nick Fairclouth and his wife Aletea, he assumes it's Deborah - who plays along under the guise of DS Cotter.
Believing the Lie focuses in Lynley, but George periodically shifts the focus to DS Barbara Havers in London. Under Acting Superintendent Isabelle Ardery's orders, Havers has fixed her teeth and (when officially on duty) her wardrobe, but Ardery still isn't pleased with the brilliant but rough-edged detective. Particularly when Barbara knows about Lynley's case and Isabelle - with whom Lynley has been having a (not as) clandestine (as he thinks) affair - does not. Havers's search turns up information on Aletea Fairclough and a series of misinterpreted conversations lead to tragedy in Cumbria.
As usual, George weaves several side plots (they're too important to call them subplots) through her narrative. There's Lynley's affair with Ardery, of course; Ian Cresswell's disturbed and victimized son; Nick's sisters, responsible Minette and woman-child Mignon; and Havers's increasingly awkward relationship with her neighbor Taymullah Azhar. Azhar and his daughter Hidayyah came into Barbara's life in Playing for the Ashes, and she's grown close to both of them. Hidayyah is the sort of little girl who never speaks when she can sing or walks when she can skip and she's helped Barbara heal from her series of family tragedies. Barbara's relationship with Azhar seemed to be taking tentative steps towards romance, until Hidayyah's mother Angela Uppman returned at the end of This Body of Death. Barbara reluctantly enters a friendship with the chic woman (who does help her satisfy her boss's edicts), and that puts her in an awkward position - and sets up George's next book. I'm looking forward to Just One Evil Act, not just because I enjoyed Believing the Lie, but because it focuses on Barbara Havers.
Meanwhile, tabloid reporter Zed Benjamin is also on his way to Cumbria to save his soon-to-be spiked story. Fairclough's son Nick, a recovering addict, has organized a project to restore a pele tower with rehabbing addicts performing the labor as a form of therapy. It's an inspiring tale - but not sexy, at least in the eyes of Zed's editor. Sadly, Zed isn't much of a tabloid investigator, and when he hears that a Scotland Yard detective is also investigating Nick Fairclouth and his wife Aletea, he assumes it's Deborah - who plays along under the guise of DS Cotter.
Believing the Lie focuses in Lynley, but George periodically shifts the focus to DS Barbara Havers in London. Under Acting Superintendent Isabelle Ardery's orders, Havers has fixed her teeth and (when officially on duty) her wardrobe, but Ardery still isn't pleased with the brilliant but rough-edged detective. Particularly when Barbara knows about Lynley's case and Isabelle - with whom Lynley has been having a (not as) clandestine (as he thinks) affair - does not. Havers's search turns up information on Aletea Fairclough and a series of misinterpreted conversations lead to tragedy in Cumbria.
As usual, George weaves several side plots (they're too important to call them subplots) through her narrative. There's Lynley's affair with Ardery, of course; Ian Cresswell's disturbed and victimized son; Nick's sisters, responsible Minette and woman-child Mignon; and Havers's increasingly awkward relationship with her neighbor Taymullah Azhar. Azhar and his daughter Hidayyah came into Barbara's life in Playing for the Ashes, and she's grown close to both of them. Hidayyah is the sort of little girl who never speaks when she can sing or walks when she can skip and she's helped Barbara heal from her series of family tragedies. Barbara's relationship with Azhar seemed to be taking tentative steps towards romance, until Hidayyah's mother Angela Uppman returned at the end of This Body of Death. Barbara reluctantly enters a friendship with the chic woman (who does help her satisfy her boss's edicts), and that puts her in an awkward position - and sets up George's next book. I'm looking forward to Just One Evil Act, not just because I enjoyed Believing the Lie, but because it focuses on Barbara Havers.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Death Comes to Pemberly
Death Comes to Pemberly surprised me, but not the way I expected. PD James is one of the 20th Century masters of the mystery, and Jane Austen derivatives and sequels tend to be OK rather than great. James, however, handled the "fanfic" well and then tacked on an unsatisfying mystery.
James starts by retelling Pride and Prejudice from the perspective of Meryton gossip. We're used to Lizzie's point of view, but it's easy to see how the too-observant (and probably too vocal) heroine might not be as popular in town as her friend Charlotte Lucas. To their fellow ballroom denizens, it's Lizzy who sets off to ensnare a rich husband and Charlotte who's lucky enough to marry as fine a man as Mr. Collins, and when Lydia runs away with Wickham, the town's main concern is whether Mr. Bennett will do anything to Longborne that would decrease the value of Charlotte's inheritance.
Six years later, Lizzie and Darcy are preparing for Lady Anne's Ball when Lydia arrives at their door (on, of course, a dark and stormy night). She'd been traveling with Wickham and Captain Denny, but they'd both left the carriage in some sort of conflict which Lydia is too hysterical to accurately describe. Darcy, Bingley, Col. Fitzwilliam, and Georgiana Darcy's suitor Henry Alverston go into the woods in search of Wickham and Darcy and find Lydia's husband, drunk and sobbing over Denny's dead body. Darcy sends for the local magistrate and after an inquest, he holds Wickham over for trial.
James devotes about a third of the book to the trial and its aftermath, and it was a bit of a letdown. I found the plot to be both overcomplicated and implausible. Her tone also lost some of the wit present in the opening section, and something else bothered me. Austen's books were set approximately when they were written, but James references both Emma and Persuasion in a context that only works if those later-written books occurred before Pride and Prejudice. Both references are fleeting, and yet they bugged me. Not enough that I wouldn't recommend Death Comes to Pemberly to a fellow Austen fan, but enough to irritate me.
James starts by retelling Pride and Prejudice from the perspective of Meryton gossip. We're used to Lizzie's point of view, but it's easy to see how the too-observant (and probably too vocal) heroine might not be as popular in town as her friend Charlotte Lucas. To their fellow ballroom denizens, it's Lizzy who sets off to ensnare a rich husband and Charlotte who's lucky enough to marry as fine a man as Mr. Collins, and when Lydia runs away with Wickham, the town's main concern is whether Mr. Bennett will do anything to Longborne that would decrease the value of Charlotte's inheritance.
Six years later, Lizzie and Darcy are preparing for Lady Anne's Ball when Lydia arrives at their door (on, of course, a dark and stormy night). She'd been traveling with Wickham and Captain Denny, but they'd both left the carriage in some sort of conflict which Lydia is too hysterical to accurately describe. Darcy, Bingley, Col. Fitzwilliam, and Georgiana Darcy's suitor Henry Alverston go into the woods in search of Wickham and Darcy and find Lydia's husband, drunk and sobbing over Denny's dead body. Darcy sends for the local magistrate and after an inquest, he holds Wickham over for trial.
James devotes about a third of the book to the trial and its aftermath, and it was a bit of a letdown. I found the plot to be both overcomplicated and implausible. Her tone also lost some of the wit present in the opening section, and something else bothered me. Austen's books were set approximately when they were written, but James references both Emma and Persuasion in a context that only works if those later-written books occurred before Pride and Prejudice. Both references are fleeting, and yet they bugged me. Not enough that I wouldn't recommend Death Comes to Pemberly to a fellow Austen fan, but enough to irritate me.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Takedown Twenty
Once again, Janet Evanovich pulled out the Stephanie Plum formula, and once again it worked. Evanovich has been coasting since about book ten or eleven (my theory is that with multiple series, she's spread herself too thin), but Takedown Twenty made me laugh and contained a decent mystery. Uncle Sunny - beloved to the Burg for his habit of crooning Sinatra at weddings while wearing a red bow tie. That habit clearly outweighs his reputation for killing people, so when some kid uses his phone to video Sunny running over someone, well, public sentiment is on Sunny's side. Not on the side of the bounty hunter tasked with bringing him in. Oh, and Sunny is also Joe's Grandma Bella's nephew, so Steph not only has to bring in a "connected" and popular old man, Bella has cursed her. And she keeps seeing a giraffe (which Lula has named Kevin) running around Trenton. Maybe she's better off helping Ranger find the serial killer who murdered a Rangeman client's mother. Or maybe she should go to work for the butcher her mother has invited to dinner.
While not up to the first dozen Plums, Takedown Twenty is a funny, fast-paced, and well plotted book. Evanovich works in car death, a crazy Lula outfit, Grandma Bella in a Mets cap, a secondary FTA, family dinner, and a funeral without making it feel like she's working from a checklist. It's an afternoon's diversion, and not so taxing that you can't read it while sipping some of Mrs. Plum's "iced tea."
While not up to the first dozen Plums, Takedown Twenty is a funny, fast-paced, and well plotted book. Evanovich works in car death, a crazy Lula outfit, Grandma Bella in a Mets cap, a secondary FTA, family dinner, and a funeral without making it feel like she's working from a checklist. It's an afternoon's diversion, and not so taxing that you can't read it while sipping some of Mrs. Plum's "iced tea."
Friday, August 29, 2014
This Is Improbable
My favorite IgNobel prize was the one awarded to the inventor of the run away alarm clock. She won the Economics prize - for getting people out of bed and to work on time. That's not included in This Is Improbable. What you will find is reports on the speed of fingernail growth, alternative uses (easing sweaty hands and cracked nipples) for tea bags, how people view "Norman" when he's dressed as a punk versus when he's dressed as an accountant, and the amount of stress a strapless gown can bear before, well, leaving the wearer bare. All of these studies first appeared in Annals of Improbable Research edited by Marc Abrahams. They're all silly on the surface (and some are side projects which must have been conceived after a third drink), but some (like the IgNobel winning Wasabi Fire Alarm) have real applications. As Abrahams says, the IgNobels go to achievements which make you laugh - and then make you think.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
The Whole Enchilada
Diane Mott Davidson slumped a bit after her first half-dozen Goldy Schultz mysteries, and the series has been uneven for the past decade-plus. I never stopped reading, though, because they remained entertaining and Davidson always includes several fantastic recipes. The Whole Enchilada is my reward for sticking with the series. Not only do I want to try every included recipe, it's one of the best books in the series.
The book opens with a birthday party for Goldy and her friend Holly's son Drew. Goldy and Holly met in the maternity ward and bonded over their sons and their bad marriages to doctors. Both divorced and formed a support group with Marla (Goldy's ex's other ex) and a few other women, but as their lives improved (and Holly moved to Denver) the women drifted apart. Holly moved back to Aspen Meadows and while the boys picked up their friendship, Holly seemed a bit distant. That worries Goldy, but the spring/summer catering season is about to start and she's dealing with an overbearing client who wants everything to be perfect for his mousy daughter Ophelia's surprise 21st birthday party. Her personal life is busy as well - her former assistant Julian has closed his cafe in Denver, rejoined Goldy's business, and moved in with the family and Goldy and her husband Tom are thinking about having a baby together. So Goldy puts her concerns aside until she and Holly can catch up.
But Holly dies as she leaves the boys' birthday party - and it appears that someone tampered with one of the dishes at the potluck buffet. As Goldy comes to terms with her friend's death, she discovers that Holly was in financial trouble, but she can't see how that would make anyone want to kill her. Then Goldy falls into a trap possibly meant for Holly and someone stabs Father Pete in the parish office. How were Holly's secrets involved? Between catering events (including Ophelia's unexpectedly eventful party), Goldy and Marla pour through old meeting notes and half-forgotten memories, bringing together what appear to be separate plots into one satisfying mystery.
My only problem with the book is that I'm afraid it's the last in the series. The final chapter feels like a Happily Ever After coda. Davidson hasn't so completely tied up the loose ends that she can't return to the series, but I suspect that she's at the end of a contract and she wanted give readers a resolution in case the series has ended.
The book opens with a birthday party for Goldy and her friend Holly's son Drew. Goldy and Holly met in the maternity ward and bonded over their sons and their bad marriages to doctors. Both divorced and formed a support group with Marla (Goldy's ex's other ex) and a few other women, but as their lives improved (and Holly moved to Denver) the women drifted apart. Holly moved back to Aspen Meadows and while the boys picked up their friendship, Holly seemed a bit distant. That worries Goldy, but the spring/summer catering season is about to start and she's dealing with an overbearing client who wants everything to be perfect for his mousy daughter Ophelia's surprise 21st birthday party. Her personal life is busy as well - her former assistant Julian has closed his cafe in Denver, rejoined Goldy's business, and moved in with the family and Goldy and her husband Tom are thinking about having a baby together. So Goldy puts her concerns aside until she and Holly can catch up.
But Holly dies as she leaves the boys' birthday party - and it appears that someone tampered with one of the dishes at the potluck buffet. As Goldy comes to terms with her friend's death, she discovers that Holly was in financial trouble, but she can't see how that would make anyone want to kill her. Then Goldy falls into a trap possibly meant for Holly and someone stabs Father Pete in the parish office. How were Holly's secrets involved? Between catering events (including Ophelia's unexpectedly eventful party), Goldy and Marla pour through old meeting notes and half-forgotten memories, bringing together what appear to be separate plots into one satisfying mystery.
My only problem with the book is that I'm afraid it's the last in the series. The final chapter feels like a Happily Ever After coda. Davidson hasn't so completely tied up the loose ends that she can't return to the series, but I suspect that she's at the end of a contract and she wanted give readers a resolution in case the series has ended.
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