The second Maisie Dobbs mystery
Jacqueline Winspear’s marvelous debut, Maisie Dobbs, won her fans from around the world and raised her intuitive, intelligent, and resourceful heroine to the ranks of literature’s favorite sleuths. Birds of a Feather, its follow-up, finds psychologist and private investigator Maisie Dobbs on another dangerously intriguing adventure in London “between the wars.” It is the spring of 1930, and Maisie has been hired to find a runaway heiress. But what seems a simple case at the outset soon becomes increasingly complicated when three of the heiress’s old friends are found dead. Is there a connection between the woman’s mysterious disappearance and the murders? Who would want to kill three seemingly respectable young women? As Maisie investigates, she discovers that the answers lie in the unforgettable agony of the Great War.
About the Author
Jacqueline Winspear is the author of New York Times bestselling Maisie Dobbs series, as well as The Care and Management of Lies, a novel of World War I. Originally from Kent, England, she now lives in California.
Date of Birth:April 30, 1955
Place of Birth:Weald of Kent, England
Education:The University of London¿s Institute of Education
Read an Excerpt
Maisie Dobbs shuffled the papers on her desk into a neat pile and placed them in a plain manila folder. She took up green marble-patterned W.H. Smith fountain pen and inscribed the cover with the name of her new clients: Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Johnson, who were concerned that their son’s fiancée might have misled them regarding her past. It was the sort of case that was easily attended to, that would provide a useful reference, and that could be closed with presentation of a timely report and accompanying account for her services. But for Maisie the case notes would not be filed away until those whose lives were touched by her investigation had reached a certain peace with her findings, with themselves, and with one another—as far as that might be possible. As she wrote, a tendril of jet black hair tumbled down into her eyes. Sighing, she quickly pushed it back into the chignon at the nape of her neck. Suddenly, Maisie set her pen on the blotting pad, pulled the troublesome wisp of hair free so that it hung down again, and walked to the large mirror hanging on the wall above the fireplace. She unpinned her long hair and tucked it inside the collar of her white silk blouse, pulling out just an inch or so around her chin-line. Would shorter hair suit her?
“Perhaps Lady Rowan is right,” said Maisie to her reflection in the mirror. “Perhaps it would look better in a bob.”
She turned from side to side several times, and lifted her hair just slightly. Shorter hair might save a few minutes of precious time each morning, and it would no longer come free of the chignon and fall into her eyes. But one thing held her back. She lifted her hair and turned her head. Was the scar visible? Would shorter hair fall in such a way as to reveal the purple weal that etched a line from her neck into the sensitive flesh of her scalp? If her hair were cut, would she lean forward over her notes one day and unwittingly allow a client to see the damage inflicted by the German shell that had ripped into the casualty clearing station where she was working, in France, in 1917?
Looking at the room reflected in the mirror, Maisie considered how far she had come—not only from the dark dingy office in Warren Street that was all she had been able to afford just over a year ago, but from that first meeting with Maurice Blanche, her mentor and teacher, when she had been a maid in the household of Lord Julian Compton and his wife, Lady Rowan. It was Maurice and Lady Rowan who had noted Maisie’s intellect and ensured that she had every opportunity to pursue her hunger for education. They had made it possible for the former tweeny maid to gain admission to Girton College, Cambridge.
Maisie quickly pulled her hair into a neat chignon again, and as she pinned the twist into place, she glanced out of the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked Fitzroy Square. Her assistant, Billy Beale, had just turned in to the square and was crossing the rain-damp gray flagstones toward the office. Her scar began to throb. As she watched Billy, Maisie began to assume his posture. She moved toward the window with shoulders dropped, hands thrust into imaginary pockets, and her gait mimicking the awkwardness caused by Billy’s still-troublesome war wounds. Her disposition began to change, and she realized that the occasional malaise she had sensed several weeks ago was now a constant in Billy’s life.
As she looked down at him from what had once been the drawing room window of the Georgian building, he stretched the cuff of his overcoat over the palm of his hand and polished the brass nameplate informing visitors that the office of M. Dobbs, Psychologist and Investigator, was situated within. Satisfied, Billy straightened, drew back his shoulders, stretched his spine, ran his fingers through his tousled shock of wheaten hair, and took out his key to the main door. Maisie watched as he corrected his posture. You can’t fool me, Billy Beale, she said to herself. The front door closed with a heavy thud, and the stairs creaked as Billy ascended to the office.
“Morning, Miss. I picked up the records you wanted.” Billy placed a plain brown envelope on Maisie’s desk. “Oh, and another thing, Miss, I bought a Daily Express for you to ’ave a butcher’s ’ook at.” He took a newspaper from the inside pocket of his overcoat. “That woman what was found murdered in ’er own ’ome a week or two ago down in Surrey—you remember, in Coulsden—well, there’s more details ’ere, of who she was, and the state she was in when she was found.”
“Thank you, Billy,” said Maisie, taking the newspaper.
“She was only your age, Miss. Terrible, innit?”
“It certainly is.”
“I wonder if our friend . . . well, your friend, really—Detective Inspector Stratton—is involved?”
“Most likely. Since the murder took place outside London, it’s a Murder Squad case.”
Billy looked thoughtful. “Fancy ’avin’ to say you work for the Murder Squad, eh, Miss? Don’t exactly warm folk to you, does it?”
Maisie scanned the article quickly. “Oh, that’s a newspaper invention to sell more papers. I think they started to use it when the Crippen case became big news. It used to be called the Reserve Squad, but that didn’t sound ominous enough. And Criminal Investigation Department is a bit of a mouthful.” Maisie looked up at Billy, “And by the way, Billy, what do you mean by my ‘friend,’ eh?”
“Aw, nuffin’ really, Miss. It’s just that—”
Billy was interrupted by the ringing of the black telephone on Maisie’s desk. He raised his eyebrows and reached for the receiver.
“Fitzroy five six double 0. Good afternoon, Detective Inspector Stratton. Yes, she’s ’ere. I’ll put her on.” He smiled broadly, covering the receiver with his palm as Maisie, blushing slightly, held out her hand to take it. “Now, Miss, what was it that Doctor Blanche used to say about coincidence being a—what was it? Oh yes, a messenger of truth?”
“That’s enough, Billy.” Maisie took the receiver and waved him away. “Inspector Stratton, how very nice to hear from you. I expect you’re busy with the murder case in Coulsden.”
“And how did you know that, Miss Dobbs? No, don’t tell me. It’s probably best that I don’t know.”
Maisie laughed. “To what do I owe this call, Inspector?”
“Purely social, Miss Dobbs. I thought I’d ask if you might care to dine with me.”
Maisie hesitated, tapped the desk with her pen, and then replied,
“Thank you for the invitation, Inspector Stratton. It really is most kind of you . . . but perhaps we can lunch together instead.”
There was a pause. “Certainly, Miss Dobbs. Will you be free on Friday?”
“Yes, Friday would be excellent.”
“Good. I’ll meet you at your office at noon, and we can go from there to Bertorelli’s.”
Maisie hesitated. “May I meet you at Bertorelli’s? At noon?”
Again the line was quiet. Why does this have to be so difficult? Maisie thought.
“Of course. Friday, noon at Bertorelli’s.”
“I’ll see you then. Good-bye.” She replaced the receiver thoughtfully.
“Aye-oop, ’ere’s a nice cuppa for you, Miss.” Billy placed the tea tray on his desk, poured milk and tea into a large enamel mug for Maisie, and placed it in front of her.
“Don’t mind me askin’, Miss—and I know it ain’t none of my business, like—but why don’t you take ’im up on the offer of a dinner? I mean, gettin’ the odd dinner fer nuffin’ ain’t such a bad thing.”
“Lunch and dinner are two entirely different things, and going out for luncheon with a gentleman is definitely not the same as going out to dine in the evening.”
“You get more grub at dinner, for a start—”
Billy was interrupted by the doorbell. As he moved to the window to see who might be calling, Maisie noticed him rub his thigh and wince. The war wound, suffered almost thirteen years before, during the Battle of Messines in 1917, was nipping at him again. Billy left to answer the doorbell, and as he did so, Maisie heard him negotiate the stairs with difficulty as he descended to the front door.
“Message for M. Dobbs. Urgent. Sign ’ere, please.”
“Thanks, mate.” As Billy signed for the envelope he reached into his pocket for some change to hand the messenger. He closed the door and sighed before mounting the stairs again. As he returned to the office he held out the envelope to Maisie.
“That leg giving you trouble?” she asked.
“Just a bit more than usual. Mind you, I’m not as young as I was.”
“Have you been back to the doctor?”
“Not lately. There ain’t much they can do, is there? I’m a lucky fella—got a nice job when there’s ’undreds and ’undreds of blokes linin’
up fer work. Can’t be feelin’ sorry for meself, can I?”
“We’re fortunate, Billy. There seems to be more business for us, what with people going missing after losing all their money, and others getting up to no good at all.” She turned the envelope in her hands. “Well, well, well . . .”
“What is it, Miss?”
“Did you notice the return address on the envelope? This letter’s from Joseph Waite.”
“You mean the Joseph Waite? Moneybags Joseph Waite? The one they call the Banker’s Butcher?”
“He’s requested that I come to his residence—‘soonest,’ he says—to receive instructions for an investigation.”
“I suppose ’e’s used to orderin’ folk around and getting ’is own way—” Billy was interrupted once more by the ringing telephone. “Gawd, Miss, there goes the dog-and-bone again!”
Maisie reached for the receiver.
“Fitzroy five six double 0.”
“May I speak to Miss Maisie Dobbs, please?”
“Speaking. How may I help you?”
“This is Miss Arthur, secretary to Joseph Waite. Mr. Waite is expecting you.”
“Good morning, Miss Arthur. I have only just received his letter via personal messenger.”
“Good. Can you come today at three? Mr. Waite will see you then, for half an hour.”
The woman’s voice trembled slightly. Was Miss Arthur so much in awe of her employer?
“Right you are, Miss Arthur. My assistant and I will arrive at three. Now, may I have directions?”
“Yes, the address is as follows: Do you know Dulwich?”
“Ready when you are, Miss.”
Maisie looked at the silver nurse’s watch pinned to her jacket as if it were a brooch. The watch had been a gift from Lady Rowan when Maisie took leave from Girton College and became a VAD at the London Hospital, a member of the wartime Voluntary Aid Detachment of nursing staff during the Great War. It had kept perfect time since the very first moment she pinned it to her uniform, serving her well while she tended injured men at a casualty clearing station in France, and again when she nursed shell-shocked patients upon her return. And since completing her studies at Girton the watch had been synchronized many times with the pocket watch belonging to Maurice Blanche, when she worked as his assistant. It would serve her for a few more years yet.
“Just time to complete one more small task, Billy; then we’ll be on our way. It’s the first week of the month, and I have some accounts to do.”
Maisie took a key from her purse, opened the middle drawer on the right-hand side of her large desk, and selected one small ledger from the six bound notebooks in the drawer. The ledger was labeled motor car.
Maisie had been given use of the smart MG 14/40 sports roadster belonging to Lady Rowan the year before. Recurring hip pain suffered as the result of a hunting accident rendered driving difficult for Lady Rowan, and she insisted that Maisie borrow the motor car whenever she wanted. After using the vehicle constantly for some months, Maisie had offered to purchase the MG. Lady Rowan teased that it must have been the only transaction involving a motor car in which the buyer insisted upon paying more than the owner had stipulated. A small percentage for interest had been added at Maisie’s insistence. Taking up her pen, Maisie pulled her checkbook from the same drawer and wrote a check, payable to Lady Rowan Compton. The amount paid was entered in a ledger column and the new balance owed underlined in red.
“Right then, Billy, just about done. All secure?”
“Yes, Miss. Case maps are in my desk, and locked. Card file is locked. Tea is locked—”
“Just pullin’ yer leg, Miss!” Billy opened the door for Maisie, and they left the office, making sure that the door was locked behind them.
Maisie looked up at the leaden sky. “Looks like rain again, doesn’t it?”
“It does at that. Better get on our way and ’ope it blows over.”
The motor car was parked at the edge of Fitzroy Street, its shining paintwork a splash of claret against the gray April afternoon.
Billy held the door for her, then lifted the bonnet to turn on the fuel pump, closing it again with a clatter that made Maisie wince. As he leaned over the engine, Maisie observed the gray smudges below his eyes. Banter was Billy’s way of denying pain. He gave the thumbs-up sign, and Maisie set the ignition, throttle, and choke before pressing the starter button on the floor of the motor car. The engine burst into life. He opened the passenger door and took his seat beside her.
“Off we go, then. Sure of your way?”
“Yes, I know Dulwich. The journey shouldn’t take more than an hour, depending upon the traffic.” Maisie slipped the MG into gear and eased out into Warren Street.
“Let’s just go over what we already know about Waite. That Maurice had file cards on him is intriguing in itself.”
“Well, according to this first card, Dr. Blanche went to ’im askin’ for money for a clinic. What’s that about?” Billy glanced at Maisie, then looked ahead at the road. “It’s starting to come down.”
“I know. London weather, so fabulously predictable you never know what might happen,” observed Maisie before answering Billy’s question. “Maurice was a doctor, Billy; you know that. Before he specialized in medical jurisprudence, his patients had a bit more life in them.”
“I should ’ope so.”
“Anyway, years ago, long before I went to work at Ebury Place, Maurice was involved in a case that took him to the East End. While he was there, examining a murder victim, a man came rushing in shouting for help. Maurice followed the man to a neighboring house, where he found a woman in great difficulty in labor with her first child. The short story is that he saved her life and the life of the child, and came away determined to do something about the lack of medical care available to the poor of London, especially women and children. So for one or two days a week, he became a doctor for the living again, working with patients in the East End and then across the water, in Lambeth and Bermondsey.”
“Where does Waite come in?”
“Read the card and you’ll see. I think it was just before I came to Ebury Place, in 1910, that Maurice took Lady Rowan on one of his rounds. She was appalled and determined to help. She set about tapping all her wealthy friends for money so that Maurice might have a proper clinic.”
“I bet they gave her the money just to get her off their backs!”
“She has a reputation for getting what she wants and for not being afraid to ask. I think her example inspired Maurice. He probably met Waite socially and just asked. He knows immediately how to judge a person’s mood, and to use that—I suppose you’d call it energy—to his advantage.”
“Bit like you, Miss?”
Maisie did not reply but simply smiled. It had been her remarkable intuitive powers, along with a sharp intellect, that had led Maurice Blanche to accept her as his pupil and later as his assistant in the work he described as the forensic science of the whole person.
Billy continued. “Well, apparently old Dr. Blanche tapped Waite for five ’undred quid.”
“Look again, and you’ll probably find that the five hundred was the first of several contributions.” Maisie used the back of her hand to wipe away condensation accumulating inside the windshield.
“Oh ’ere’s another thing,” said Billy, suddenly leaning back with his eyes closed.
“What is it?” Maisie looked at her passenger, whose complexion was now rather green.
“I don’t know if I should read in the motor, Miss. Makes me go all queasy.”
Maisie pulled over to the side of the road and instructed Billy to open the passenger door, put his feet on the ground and his head between his knees. She took the cards and then summed up the notes on Joseph Waite. “Wealthy, self-made man. Started off as a butcher’s apprentice in Yorkshire—Harrogate—at age twelve. Quickly demonstrated a business mind. By the time he was twenty he’d bought his first shop. Cultivated the business, then outgrew it inside two years. Started selling fruit and veg as well, dried goods and fancy foods, all high quality and good prices. Opened another shop, then another. Now has several Waite’s International Stores in every city, and smaller Waite’s Fancy Foods in regional towns. What they all have in common is firstclass service, deliveries, good prices, and quality foods. Plus he pays a surprise visit to at least one store each day. He can turn up at any time.”
“I bet they love that, them as works for ’im.”
“Hmmm, you have a point. Miss Arthur sounded like a rabbit on the run when we spoke on the telephone this morning.” Maisie flicked over the card she was holding. “Now this is interesting . . .” she continued. “He called upon Maurice—yes, I remember this—to consult with him about ten years ago. Oh heavens . . .”
“What is it? What does it say?” asked Billy, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.
“This is not like Maurice. It says only, ‘I could not comply with his request. Discontinued communication.’”
“Charmin’. So where does that put us today?”
“Well, he must still have a high opinion of Maurice to be asking for my help.” Maisie looked at Billy to check his pallor. “Oh dear. Your nose is bleeding! Quickly, lean back and press down on the bridge of your nose with this handkerchief.” Maisie pulled a clean embroidered handkerchief from her pocket, and placed it on Billy’s nose.
“Oh my Gawd, I’m sorry. First I ’ave to lean forward, then back. I dunno . . . I’m getting right in the way today, aren’t I?”
“Nonsense, you’re a great help to me. How’s that nose?”
Billy looked down into the handkerchief, and dabbed at his nose. “I think it’s better.”
“Now then, we’d better get going.”
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Although it is set in 1930, and World War I had been over for little more than a decade, the effects of the war are still being felt. Maisie's assistant Billy, who was badly injured during the war, has become addicted to pain killers. His wife comes to Maisie concerned about her husband, and confirming Maisie's own suspicions that something is wrong with Billy. The main mystery concerns the disappearance of a young woman whose wealthy father owns many grocery stores. Her disappearance comes on the heels of the deaths of three other women, women whom Maisie discovers were friends of the missing woman. There are many possible suspects, but when the police narrow it down to one of the dead women's husbands, Maisie believes they have the wrong man. She uses the methods taught to her by her mentor Dr. Blanche, both scientific and intuitive, to find the killer. (Again, it could be a forerunner of the popular TV series CSI crossed with The Mentalist.) My favorite line in the book is one of Dr. Blanche's teachings to Maisie: "Coincidence is a messenger sent by truth. (That) there are no accidents of fate." Maisie still visits Simon, the doctor she fell in love with during the war, at the hospital where he will never recover. Her compassion is touching, but in this book it appears that Maisie is ready to move on to having a romantic relationship with another man. She has two possible suitors: Dr. Dene and Inspector Stratton. It will be interesting to see in future books which man may win her heart, and whether either man can stand up to the memory of Simon. Again, I loved the description of Maisie's clothes. I would love to see illustrations in the book of Maisie's outfits. I also found the characters in this book more rounded out. Joseph Waite, the wealthy father of the missing girl, is intriguing. He is overbearing with his daughter, but he is kind to his customers and to the families who lost sons and husbands during the war. Joseph's relationship with his daughter caused Maisie to reflect more on her own relationship with her father, which seems more distant as the years go by. The Order of the White Feather was something I had never heard of before this book, and it was incorporated well into the story. Young women tend to be dramatic, and the way in which these young ladies thought they were helping the war effort caused more pain than they could have ever imagined. And in the end, it caused them much pain too. I'd like to see Maisie become more emotionally open, and hope that in future books in the series, we see her find some happiness. Perhaps in the next novel in the series, Pardonable Lies. If you enjoy historical fiction and female protagonists, Maisie is the lady for you.
This was my second Maisie Dobbs book and I couldn't put it down. Ms. Winspear's research is very good. You get a feeling for the history and life of the time in which the book is set. The characters are well portrayed and the story keeps your interest. I've now read the whole series and am thoroughly hooked on Maisie Dobbs.
As a young girl over 60 years ago, I fell in love with the Nancy Drew books and as fast as I read one, I couldn't wait to get my hands on the next. I feel the same way about Maisie Dobbs all these years later. Anyone who enjoys a good mystery including some historical facts on life in England between WWI and the depression, should read this series.
We Americans have so much to learn about the realities of war. This series by Jacqueline Winspear gives us marvelous insight into British WW1 history through the unique perspective of Masie Dobbs, psycologist and investigator.
Personally I enjoy Winspear and her style of writing. The time period, post WWI is an interesting time and she reflects this quite well. Her characters are flushed out even further in this second book and we begin to see and appreciate them more fully. I find her plots to be intriguing and not forced or manipulated. She leads us as if she doesn't know what is going to happen next - and I like that methodology. It always appears that we have the same facts as the writer, that she's not holding something back to spring on us. I'm looking forward to the next installment. This is a series that definitely doesn't disappoint.
I am hooked on maisie dobbs. If you are in the mood foro gentle story telling in a historical setting,( and sometimes i am), you will enjoy this series.
I discovered Maisie Dobbs stories recently and have devoured all in the series without pause! After working as a servant in the home of aristocrats, Maisie Dobbs later serves as a nurse in World War 1 and goes on to become a highly respected psychologist and investigator. The plots of these stories are complex and exciting with a wonderful, endearing cast of characters. Start by reading "Maisie Dobbs", followed by "Birds of a Feather" and hopefully you will be as hooked on this great character as I was. Some of the paperback editions have discussion questions at the back so you and your friends (who of course will be reading Maisie Dobbs books by now as well!) can have a "Maisie Day" together. No kidding, the series is just that good!
It is more than fifteen years after the Great War ended and England is recovering even though the depression makes the division between the classes more noticeable. Masie Dobbs was lucky to find a patron who funded her studies in nursing and psychology. She served as a nurse in France where she was injured and her great love Simon came back from the war in a catatonic state that has not lifted since his return. Masie works as a private investigator, who uses meditation as a way of opening up her senses to the world around her. Although her methods of combining investigation with psychology are unusual, it always works........................... . Rich supermarket magnate Joseph Waite hires Masie to find his daughter Charlotte who has a habit of running away from home even if she is thirty-seven years of age. Masie deduces that she left the day she saw in the newspaper that one of her old friends from boarding school was murdered. Two more of charlotte¿s former friends die and a white feather is found on or near each murder victim. Masie must find a way to keep Charlotte safe and bait a trap to catch the killer......................... Readers will thoroughly enjoy this delightful and charming mystery and find themselves interested in the historical details of England between the wars. The protagonist is not a radical feminist but an independent person who believes that she is as capable as any man in her chosen profession. Although she has known much sorrow, she is a kind-hearted and generous person who cares about people, especially those who are suffering the aftereffects of WWI. BIRDS OF A FEATHERwill definitely appeal to fans of great mysteries........................... Harriet Klausner
I just finished this book and liked it even more than the first. It simultaneously manages to keep from being simplistic and deliver a classic mystery. The series is a little new-agey for me but I like the questions and themes that reoccur.
Wonderful mystery series starting out during the Great War and progressing into the '20 and '30, perhaps longer. I've only read the 1st two in the series. Masey Dobbs runs her own investagative,and also along with solving mysteries adds her wise physicological advise to persons she has dealings with. It's unique story telling and each book has been hard to put down. If you like mysteries I can't imagine that you'd be disappointed in meeting Miss Maisy Dobbs nd her side kick Billy. Totally fun and absorbing reading. (Enough so that a book I,ve been waiting to be published for over a year in another series will just have to wait
Just begun reading . 4 stars so far
Birds of a Feather is the second book in the Maisie Dobbs series by British-born American author, Jacqueline Winspear. Now in a new office in Fitzroy Square with Billy Beale as her permanent assistant, Maisie Dobbs is still under the generous patronage of Lady Rowan Compton, living at the Compton's Ebery Street house and in the process of buying Lady Rowan's crimson MG. Maisie is engaged by a wealthy and highly respected self-made businessman and philanthropist, Joseph Waite, to find his daughter Charlotte, who has, once again, run away from home. A woman in her early thirties, the reason for Charlotte's disappearance is not entirely apparent, although it is obvious that neither her father nor the household staff have a good relationship with her. But is this rather unhappy young woman in hiding (and if so, where?), has she met with foul play or an accident, or has she taken her own life? Following up with Charlotte's very sparsely-populated address book, Billy and Maisie discover a link with a young woman recently murdered, and soon, in exactly the same manner, the same fate befalls another of Charlotte’s contacts. When Maisie tracks down a third contact, a weeks-old suicide also begins to look suspicious. Joseph Waite has not been entirely forthcoming with information, and it seems that Billy Beale also has a problem he is not sharing with Maisie. DI Stratton makes a premature arrest and dismisses Maisie's misgivings; he continues his pursuit of Maisie socially, but his are not the only attentions Maisie has to handle. As well as expanding on Maisie's support cast, this installment illustrates further what life was like in 1930's England in rich and poor households alike, describing clothing and accoutrements, customs and behaviours, attitudes and beliefs. It also touches on the themes of remembrance and reminders, guilt, resentment and forgiveness, shame and coercion. Maisie demonstrates the value of following one’s intuition, of listening to service personnel, of re-enacting certain situations and of empathy with witnesses and victims; she uses trace evidence and, as usual, gets valuable advice from her mentor, Maurice Blanche. Yoga, Pilates, a convent, chronic pain and narcotic abuse, and a decoy stand-in all feature. Another historical mystery with an intriguing plot and an exciting climax.
Love this series - cannot wait to read of it.
I enjoy English mysteries and this one is excellent. A good summer beach book.
I have read 2 books from this series, I like them. Easy reads, but I do feel like they are not really mysteries the reader can solve. I do like how the main character approaches solving mysteries, but we are missing the ability to do it ourselves. I'd keep looking into the series to see if this changes at all. I do like the people, the commentray on the time period and the mystery solving approach put forth by the author.
a very human mystery filled with twists and turns and compassion !
Loved the time with Maisie and friends...what's she up to next...
The author spins a winding tale, moving in and out of the remains of World War I. For those of us who had an elderly family member affected by this war, we now understand a bit more. I am grateful.
It is wonderful to read a book with a smart, capable, quick witted main character. The fact that she is a woman is just that much better. The depths of the lingering problems left by WWI are poignantly shown, both the obvious surface ones like bodily injuries, and the more subtle ones that torment the psyche. Maisie is coming into her own, both as an investigator and as a person. She is a delight to follow.
The owner of a grocery store hires Maisie to locate his 30+ year old daughter who has run away from home. Meanwhile, the police are investigating the murder of someone who is a friend of the runaway daughter which appears to be a copycat of another murder. The timing is a little too coincidental so Maisie begins to investigate. The more she investigates, the more she is convinced the police have it all wrong. There's another thread running alongside of the main one that involves Maisie's assistant, Beale, who became addicted to pain medications due to his war injuries and yet another that involves Maisie's relationship with her father. It's an interesting puzzle. Readers will sometimes be frustrated that we don't know exactly what Maisie has found or seen until she gets ready to share it with someone else, but it is an effective tool to keep interest and make the plot less predictable.
Maisie Dobbs is hired by a self-made grocery store magnate to find his missing daughter. What starts as a relatively routine case develops ties with a murder being investigated by the police and possibly a suicide. A worthy sequel, highly recommended.
The second book in the Maisie Dobbs series, this story deals with a case of finding a young woman in her 30¿s who runs away from her father¿s house and the wealthy father wants her returned. As Maisie searches for the girl she finds a connection with 2 murders that the police are investigating and also with a supposed suicide. The key clue is white feathers left at the scene of the crime. When the significance of these clues is revealed I was curious if Winspear had invented the organization, The Order of the White Feather. I should have trusted her¿I googled it and not only did the organization exist but there was a picture of the advertisement for it that was mentioned in the book and a report from the daughter of one of the recipients that bore out Winspear¿s ¿take¿ on the organization. This series seems to be winner!
This book is rather a conundrum for me. I'm not particularly fond of mysteries where psychic promptings figure and spiritual visitations play a part in the solution. About halfway through the book (which is way too early) I said, "So-and-so dunnit," and was right. There are a lot of stock (might I say cliché?) characters, including a rather sententious and pompous mentor...a type I tend to dislike reading. Why, then, did I finish this second in the series and do I now have intentions of tackling the third? I don't know. There's something about Maisie Dobbs¿and I can't put my finger on what it is, so I won't try¿that I just find enjoyable. I can see why Jacqueline Winspear has the legion of fans (6,600+ LibraryThingers giving her a close to 4 star rating overall) and chalk this up to an exception to my rules. I will note that I'm listening to them on audio book as I drive and their undemanding nature is perfect for it. And those who said the second book was better than the first were correct. Perhaps that trend will continue.
In the second book in the Maisie Dobbs series, a father asks Maisie to find his runaway adult daughter without alerting the police or press. He is a businessman, and it could damage his prospects if word were to get out. His daughter may be in danger...or may be a killer. It's up to Maisie and her assistant, Billy Beale to get to the bottom of this.The audiobook I listened to was read by Kim Hicks, who did an excellent job with many characters, even making the men sound individual, and also had to deal with multiple accents (I'm no expert on how well she did there). Though a true cozy with much death off-screen (which I prefer), the psychological thrill of wondering whether Charlotte is in danger or is perpetuating these murders kept me interested as a listener and made this a rather difficult book to listen to before going to bed.