In this marvelous locked-room puzzle, we’re treated to a masterclass in solving mysteries from the grand dames of the form: first-person narrator Dorothy Sayers (Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries) and fellow Queens Agatha Christie (Hercule Poirot et al), Baroness Emma Orczy (the Scarlet Pimpernel), Ngaio Marsh (Inspector Allen), and Margery Allingham (Albert Campion). As a way to be better accepted into the Detection Club, the members of which have expressed “a certain hesitancy…around having ‘an abundance of women’ in the ranks,” the women undertake the investigation of a real crime, the disappearance of a young English nurse while on a trip to France. Dorothy’s journalist husband has been assigned the story and his work gives her a reason to go to the crime scene, the other women secretly in tow–and they’re off. Meticulously following the nurse’s activities before she disappeared, as well as her life before, leads readers into a delicious look at writing conventions of the day as well as how women skirted the low expectations that sought to hold them back. Fans of the writers in question as well as of childhood favorites such as Enid Blyton’s Famous Five will enjoy the old-timey air of innocent sleuthing, while the women’s growing determination to do right by the young victim adds a satisfying air of kindness and steadfast morality. A delight from beginning to end.
Biographical
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.
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.