Katharine Wright, a teacher when we meet her in 1903, has her work cut out at home as well as at the high school where she teaches Latin and Greek (but not advanced classes, because “we can’t have a woman teaching upperclassmen”). At home, her father has forbidden her to marry, as her mother has died and he and his sons need a woman to take care of them. Two of those sons are Wilbur and Orville, who at the outset of this informative, fun, and absorbing mystery are in North Carolina attempting to be the first to achieve powered, heavier-than-air flight. After the triumphant telegram, the mysteries start: accompanying his sister to a society dinner, Orville has his jacket stolen, and in its pocket are the men’s notes and drawings of their not-yet-patented work. At the same event, a guest is found stabbed in the heart (you can guess which crime concerns Orville more). The siblings must get to work at finding the papers before Wilbur knows they’re gone and finding the killer before an innocent teen is tried for the crime. The few details about aviation here are interesting and easy for lay readers to navigate; the brothers’ agony over their ideas being stolen is palpable and more germane to the plot. Yet more central, happily, is their sister, the only Wright sibling to attend college and “a teacher, feminist, scholar, and extrovert,” per the author’s note. While waiting for this, try another aviator-related crime novel, Mariah Fredericks’s The Lindbergh Nanny.
Biographical
Most of us are familiar with the kidnapping of Charles and Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s baby, Charlie, in 1932, which was known as “the crime of the century.” So what can a fictionalized version of the events offer readers today? A whole lot more, it turns out. Fredericks has Betty Gow, the baby’s nanny, narrate this tale, which begins with Betty’s arrival in Detroit from Scotland—in pursuit of love gone wrong—and ends several years later with her permanent return to Glasgow. Kudos to Fredericks for creating in Gow such a hugely compelling character: smart, introspective, full of humor, a loving nanny. She’s also a terrific social observer, watchful of class distinctions, and all too aware of the inequality of the sexes. The first third or so of the book builds towards the abduction of Charlie—it’s incredibly nerve racking—while the middle third is centered on the messy aftermath of the crime: the frenzied press, the myriad ransom notes, the continual interrogations by detectives. In the final third, the narrative builds again as Betty returns from Scotland to testify in the trial of Bruno Hauptmann, who was eventually convicted and electrocuted, and the courtroom drama that unfolds is nothing less than brilliant. As fans of the Jane Prescott mysteries can testify, Fredericks is especially adept at historical settings, and this book doesn’t disappoint. The Lindbergh Nanny can cross-over in all kinds of directions, and should appeal to readers of crime fiction, historical fiction, women’s fiction and those just needing a solid read. Librarians: watch the holds list on this one.