Murder at the Brightwell: A Mystery [NOOK Book]

Overview


Amory Ames is a wealthy young woman who regrets her marriage to her notoriously charming playboy husband, Milo. Looking for a change, she accepts a request for help from her former fiancé, Gil Trent, not knowing that she’ll soon become embroiled in a murder investigation that will test not only her friendship with Gil, but will upset the status quo with her husband.

Amory accompanies Gil to the Brightwell Hotel in an attempt to circumvent the...
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Murder at the Brightwell: A Mystery

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Overview


Amory Ames is a wealthy young woman who regrets her marriage to her notoriously charming playboy husband, Milo. Looking for a change, she accepts a request for help from her former fiancé, Gil Trent, not knowing that she’ll soon become embroiled in a murder investigation that will test not only her friendship with Gil, but will upset the status quo with her husband.

Amory accompanies Gil to the Brightwell Hotel in an attempt to circumvent the marriage of his sister, Emmeline, to Rupert Howe, a disreputable ladies’ man. Amory sees in the situation a grim reflection of her own floundering marriage. There is more than her happiness at stake, however, when Rupert is murdered and Gil is arrested for the crime. Amory is determined to prove his innocence and find the real killer, despite attempted dissuasion from the disapproving police inspector on the case. Matters are further complicated by Milo’s unexpected arrival, and the two form an uneasy alliance as Amory enlists his reluctant aid in clearing Gil’s name. As the stakes grow higher and the line between friend and foe becomes less clear, Amory must decide where her heart lies and catch the killer before she, too, becomes a victim.

Ashley Weaver's Murder at the Brightwell is a delicious mystery in which murder invades polite society and romance springs in unexpected places.

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Editorial Reviews

Library Journal
09/15/2014
This first novel by librarian Weaver is, in a word, charming. Set in 1930s England, at a popular upper-crust seaside resort, the story's heroine and reluctant sleuth, Amory Ames, is at best ambivalent about her marriage to flighty playboy Milo. That is part of the reason she agrees so readily to spend a week at the resort with her former fiancé, Gil Trent. Gil's reason for asking Amory is to enlist her help in untangling his sister from an unsuitable engagement—to Rupert, a man who appears to be very much like Amory's wayward husband! To the surprise of both Amory and Gil, Milo decides to show up at the resort as well, adding to Amory's problems…for Rupert is dead, and Gil is the main suspect. A second murder adds to the mystery, and Amory finds herself battling for time to solve the murder and decide whether she wants to continue in her marriage. VERDICT A pleasant debut novel, nicely evoking the 1930s with strong atmosphere and the beginnings of some intriguing characters. Readers who enjoy this period will not want to miss what is likely the first in a new series.—Pam O'Sullivan, Coll. at Brockport Lib., SUNY
Publishers Weekly
08/25/2014
Fans of plucky female amateur sleuths will welcome Amory Ames, the heroine of Weaver’s pleasing debut set in 1932 England. Amory’s rake of a husband, Milo, a man she “loves and hates in equal proportions,” has just returned from Monte Carlo, where he was reported to have spent time with other women. Meanwhile, Gil Trent, the man Amory was engaged to before Milo swept her off her feet five years earlier, invites her to join him and others in a large party planning to stay a week at the Brightwell Hotel in Kent. There Gil hopes Amory will help persuade his 23-year-old sister to stop seeing a man he deems unsuitable. Amory accepts, but she soon turns detective after a fellow hotel guest turns up dead and another is suspected of foul play. Despite the routine sleuthing and predictable love triangle, the affable Amory could carry a series, though plausibly involving her in future murder cases will require some imagination. Agent: Ann Collette, Rees Literary Agency. (Oct.)
From the Publisher
“It's all very Downton Abbey…. Weaver lays the foundation for a solid series in her first novel as she channels the ambience and spirit of British society during the post-World War I years.”—Associated Press

“With a profound nod to the Golden Age of the British whodunit, Weaver creates a classic mystery, complete with a fashionable setting, a cast of upper-crust Brits and witty prose.”—Richmond Times-Dispatch

“This debut novel by a librarian lays the foundation for a stylish series with Milo and Amory channeling Nick and Nora Charles.”—Booklist

“Fans of plucky female amateur sleuths will welcome Amory Ames, the heroine of Weaver's pleasing debut set in 1932 England... the affable Amory could carry a series.”—Publishers Weekly

“A spunky heroine, a tense romance and red herrings galore make Weaver's debut a pleasant read for nostalgia buffs who miss Agatha Christie.”—Kirkus Reviews

“Lovers of Agatha Christie and Jacqueline Winspear will enjoy this elegant murder mystery set on holiday at the English seaside. What starts out as a lark, intended to make Amory Ames’s misbehaving-but-oh-so-delicious husband jealous, turns into a dangerous and deadly game of whodunit for Amory and her friends. Love, jealousy, and revenge are tangled together in this smart and sophisticated British mystery reminiscent of the genre’s golden age.”—October 2014 LibraryReads List

“This is a pleasant, light, and surprisingly thoughtful read.”—Mystery Scene Magazine

Murder at the Brightwell is an elegant Christie-esque 1930s romp that will delight fans of Rhys Bowen's Lady Georgie series with its wit, charm, and strong independent heroine. With its dash of romance, Amory Ames and her rakish husband Milo might just be the new Nick and Nora Charles.”—Deborah Crombie, New York Times bestselling author of To Dwell in Darkness

“If you love Downton Abbey, you'll adore Ashley Weaver's charming debut novel, set amidst the upper-crust of British society at a posh seaside resort in the 1930s. There are handsome cads, gorgeous gowns, and red herrings galore as our winsome heroine Amory Ames puts all the clues together to find the murderer—as well as love.”—Susan Elia MacNeal, New York Times-bestselling author of the Barry Award-winning Maggie Hope series.

“A charming mystery including all my favorite elements—a grand seaside hotel in 1930s England with a background love story.”—Rhys Bowen, New York Times bestselling author of the Molly Murphy and Royal Spyness mysteries

“Ashley Weaver's debut novel delivers the goods—an appealing heroine, an abundance of  suspects and enough red herrings to satisfy the most demanding of readers—all rendered with an expert hand.”—Carol K. Carr, national bestselling author of the Madame of Espionage mysteries 

“A witty and charming debut mystery with a believably spunky sleuth and a compelling story of love that never runs smoothly. I was caught up by the author's subtle humor and gift for dialogue. I hope we see more of Amory Ames in the future.”—G.M. Malliet, Agatha Award-winning author of the St. Just and Max Tudor mysteries

“An engaging mystery that kept me guessing right up to the end. I especially enjoyed the playful and at times snarky banter between Amory and Milo, which had me rooting for them not only to solve the murder, but to realize how perfect they are for each other. I hope they will continue on in the vein of Nick and Nora Charles, for I would happily follow them on the trail of future mysteries!”—Jennifer Delamere, author of An Heiress at Heart

“This lively debut traditional mystery features a captivating pair of bantering amateur sleuths capable of carrying a series.”—Stop, You’re Killing Me

“A posh hotel that specializes in good wines, fine foods, and servants that cater to every whim in this charming period piece will appeal to Downton Abbey fans.”—Oline H. Cogdill, Fisher Island Magazine

Kirkus Reviews
2014-09-16
A lovely seaside hotel is the backdrop for murder. England, 1932. Young, beautiful and wealthy, Amory Ames has a dashingly handsome, equally wealthy husband and an unhappy marriage. Milo Ames is seldom home, and when he is, their relationship is, to put it politely, strained. So when Amory's former fiance, Gilmore Trent, begs her to go to the Brightwell Hotel with him to help break up his sister Emmeline's romance with Rupert Howe, she agrees, even though her joining Gil may create a scandal. Upon their arrival, Amory and Gil run into Yvonne Roland, a society gossip who jumps to the conclusion that they're a couple. There's quite a mixed group vacationing at the Brightwell, but when Howe is found dead at the base of a cliff, it's Gil who's suspected of killing him. Amory, still in love with Milo, feels guilty about dumping Gil. She's quite fond of him and determined to prove him innocent despite warnings from DI Jones that her sleuthing could prove dangerous. When Milo arrives on the scene, their brittle conversations don't tell Amory whether he's motivated by jealousy or just looking for excitement. Snooping in the room of the bullying Nelson Hamilton, the pair is forced to hide in a wardrobe when he suddenly returns to take a bath. Attempting to sneak away, they find him dead in the bathtub. Despite her unhappiness and confusion in her relationships, Amory is still determined to save Gil, even if her snooping puts her on the killer's to-do list. A spunky heroine, a tense romance and red herrings galore make Weaver's debut a pleasant read for nostalgia buffs who miss Agatha Christie.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781466846531
  • Publisher: St. Martin's Press
  • Publication date: 10/14/2014
  • Sold by: Macmillan
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 304
  • Sales rank: 28,942
  • File size: 675 KB

Meet the Author


ASHLEY WEAVER is the branch manager at Oberlin, the headquarters branch of the Allen Parish Libraries in Louisiana. Weaver has worked in libraries since she was 14; she was a page and then a clerk before obtaining her MLIS from Louisiana State University. She lives in Oakdale, Louisiana.

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Read an Excerpt

1

KENT, ENGLAND 1932

IT IS AN impossibly great trial to be married to a man one loves and hates in equal proportions.

It was late June, and I was dining alone in the breakfast room when Milo blew in from the south.

“Hello, darling,” he said, brushing a light kiss across my cheek. He dropped into the seat beside me and began buttering a piece of toast, as though it had been two hours since I had seen him last, rather than two months.

I took a sip of coffee. “Hello, Milo. How good of you to drop in.”

“You’re looking well, Amory.”

I had thought the same of him. His time on the Riviera had obviously served him well. His skin was smooth and golden, setting off the bright blue of his eyes. He was wearing a dark gray suit, lounging in that casual way he had of looking relaxed and at home in expensive and impeccably tailored clothes.

“I hadn’t expected to see you back so soon,” I said. His last letter, an offhanded attempt at keeping me informed of his whereabouts, had arrived three weeks before and hinted that he would probably not return home until late July.

“Monte Carlo grew so tedious; I simply had to get away.”

“Yes,” I replied. “Nothing to replace the dull routine of roulette, champagne, and beautiful women like a rousing jaunt to your country house for toast and coffee with your wife.”

Without really meaning to do so, I had poured a cup of coffee, two sugars, no milk, and handed it to him.

“You know, I believe I’ve missed you, Amory.”

He looked me in the eyes then and smiled. Despite myself, I nearly caught my breath. He had that habit of startling, dazzling one with his sudden and complete attention.

Grimes, our butler, appeared at the door just then. “Someone to see you in the morning room, madam.” He did not acknowledge Milo. Grimes, it had long been apparent, was no great admirer of my husband. He treated him with just enough respect that his obvious distaste should not cross the boundary into impropriety.

“Thank you, Grimes. I will go to the morning room directly.”

“Very good, madam.” He disappeared as noiselessly as he had come.

The fact that Grimes’s announcement had been so vague as to keep Milo in the dark about the identity of my visitor was not lost on my husband. He turned to me and smiled as he buttered a second piece of toast. “Have I interrupted a tryst with your secret lover by my unexpected arrival?”

I set my napkin down and rose. “I have no secrets from you, Milo.” I turned as I reached the door and flashed his smile back at him. “If I had a lover, I would certainly inform you of it.”

*   *   *

ON MY WAY to the morning room, I stopped at the large gilt mirror in the hallway to be sure the encounter with my wayward husband had not left me looking as askew as I felt. My reflection looked placidly back at me, gray eyes calm, waved dark hair in place, and I was reassured.

It took time, I had learned, to prepare myself for Milo. Unfortunately, he did not often oblige me by giving notice of his arrival.

I reached the door to the morning room, wondering who my visitor might be. Grimes’s mysterious announcement was a reflection of my husband’s presence, not the presence of my visitor, so I would have been unsurprised to find as commonplace a guest as my cousin Laurel behind the solid oak door. I entered the room and found myself surprised for the second time that morning.

The man seated on the white Louis XVI sofa was not my cousin Laurel. He was, in fact, my former fiancé.

“Gil.”

“Hello, Amory.” He had risen from his seat as I entered, and we stared at one another.

Gilmore Trent and I had known each other for years and had been engaged for all of a month when I had met Milo. The two men could not have been more different. Gil was fair; Milo was dark. Gil was calm and reassuring; Milo was reckless and exciting. Compared with Milo’s charming unpredictability, Gil’s steadiness had seemed dull. Young fool that I had been, I had chosen illusion over substance. Gil had taken it well and wished me happiness in that sincere way of his, and that was the last that I had seen of him. Until now.

“How have you been?” I asked, moving forward to take his hand. His grip was warm and firm, familiar.

“Quite well. And you? You look wonderful. Haven’t changed a bit.” He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and I felt instantly at ease. He was still the same old Gil.

I motioned to the sofa. “Sit down. Would you care for some tea? Or perhaps breakfast?”

“No, no. Thank you. I realize I have already imposed upon you, dropping in unannounced as I have.”

A pair of blue silk-upholstered chairs sat across from him, and I sank into one, somehow glad Grimes had chosen the intimate morning room over one of the more ostentatious sitting rooms. “Nonsense. I’m delighted to see you.” I realized that I meant it. It was awfully good to see him. Gil had kept out of society and I had wondered, more than once in the five years since my marriage, what had become of him.

“It’s good to see you too, Amory.” He was looking at me attentively, trying to determine, I supposed, how the years had changed me. Despite his claim that I was still the same, I knew the woman before him was quite different from the girl he had once known.

Almost without realizing it, I had been appraising him as well. Five years seemed to have altered him very little. Gil was very good-looking in a solid and conventional sort of way, not stunning like Milo but very handsome. He had dark blond hair and well-formed, pleasant features. His eyes were a light, warm brown, with chocolaty flecks drawn out today by his brown tweed suit.

“I should have written to you before my visit,” he went on, “but, to tell the truth … I wasn’t sure you would see me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I smiled, suddenly happy to be sitting here with an old friend, despite what had passed between us. “After all, the bad behavior was entirely on my part. I am surprised that you would care to see me.”

“All water under the bridge.” He leaned forward slightly, lending sincerity to his words. “I told you at the time, there was no one to blame.”

“That is kind of you, Gil.”

He spoke lightly, but his lips twitched up at the corners as though his mouth could not quite decide if he was serious, could not quite support a smile. “Yes. Well, one can’t stop love, can one?”

“No.” My smile faded. “One can’t.”

He leaned back in his seat then, dismissing the intimacy of the moment. “How is Milo?”

“He’s very well. He returned only this morning from the Riviera.”

“Yes, I had read something about his being in Monte Carlo in the society columns.” I could only imagine what it might have been. Within six months of my marriage, I had learned it was better not to know what the society columns said about Milo.

For just a moment, the specter of my husband hung between us in the air.

I picked up the box of cigarettes on the table and offered one to him, knowing he didn’t smoke. To my surprise, he accepted, pulling a lighter from his pocket. He touched the flame to the tip of his cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“What have you been doing these past few years?” I asked, immediately wondering if the question was appropriate. It seemed that some shadow of the past tainted nearly every topic. I knew that he had left England for a time after we had parted ways. Perhaps his travel since our parting was not something he wished to discuss. After all, there had been a time when we had traveled together. In the old days, before either of us had ever thought of marriage, our families had often been thrown together on various holidays abroad, and Gil and I had become fast friends and confidants. He had good-naturedly accompanied me in searching out scenic spots or exploring ancient ruins, and our evenings had been occupied by keeping one another company in hotel sitting rooms as our parents frequented foreign nightspots until dawn. Sometimes I still thought fondly of our adventures together and of those long, comfortable conversations before the fire.

He blew out a puff of smoke. “I’ve traveled some. Kept busy.”

“I expect you enjoyed seeing more of the world. Do you remember the time we were in Egypt…”

He sat forward suddenly, grounding out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the table. “Look here, Amory. I might as well tell you why I’ve come.”

Years of practice in hiding my thoughts allowed me to keep my features from registering surprise at his sudden change of manner. “Certainly.”

He looked me in the eyes. “I’ve come to ask a favor.”

“Of course, Gil. I’d be happy to do anything…”

He held up a hand. “Hear me out before you say yes.” He was agitated about something, uneasy, so unlike his normally contained self.

He stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the green lawn that went on and on before it ended abruptly at the lake that marked the eastern boundary of the property.

I waited, knowing it would do little good to press him. Gil wouldn’t speak until he was ready. I wondered if perhaps he had come to ask me for money. The Trents were well-off, but the recent economic difficulties had been far-reaching, and more than a few of my friends had found themselves in very reduced circumstances. If that was the case, I would be only too happy to help.

“I don’t need money, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, his back still to me.

Despite the tension of the situation, I laughed. “Still reading my mind.”

He turned, regarding me with a solemn expression. “It’s not so hard to read your mind, but your eyes are harder to read than they used to be.”

“Concealment comes with practice,” I replied.

“Yes, I suppose it does.” He walked back to the sofa and sat down.

When he spoke, his tone had returned to normal. “Have you seen anything of Emmeline these past years?”

I wondered briefly if he had decided not to ask me the favor, reverting instead to polite conversation. Emmeline was Gil’s sister. She was younger than me by three years and away at school in France during much of our acquaintance, but we had been friends. After my engagement to Gil had ended, however, Emmeline and I had drifted apart.

“Once or twice at London affairs,” I answered.

“Was she … do you remember the chap she was with?”

I cast my mind back to the last society dinner at which I had seen Emmeline Trent. There had been a young man, handsome and charming, if I recalled correctly. Something about my memory of him nagged at me, and I tried to recall what it was.

“I remember him,” I said. “His name was Rupert something or other.”

“Rupert Howe, yes. She plans to marry him.”

I said nothing. There was more to come; that much was certain.

“He’s not a good sort, Amory. I’m sure of it.”

“That may be, Gil,” I said gently. “But, after all, Emmeline is a grown woman.” Emmeline would be twenty-three now, older than I had been when I married.

“It’s not like that, Amory. It isn’t just that I don’t like the fellow. It’s that I don’t trust him. There’s something … I don’t know…” His voice trailed off, and he looked up at me. “Emmeline has always liked you, looked up to you. I thought that, perhaps…”

Was this why he had come? I had no influence on Emmeline. “If she won’t listen to you,” I said, “whatever makes you think she will care what I have to say?”

He paused, and I could see that he was formulating his words, planning out what he would say. Gil had always been like that, careful to think before speaking. “There’s a large party going down to the south coast, a little village outside Brighton, tomorrow. Emmeline and Rupert and several other people I’m sure you know. We’ll be staying at the Brightwell Hotel for a week. I came to ask you if you would go on the pretext of a holiday.”

I was surprised at the invitation. I had not seen Gil in five years, and suddenly here he was, asking me to take a trip to the seaside. “I still don’t understand. What can I do, Gil? Why come to me?”

“I … Amory,” his eyes came up to mine, the brown flecks darker than they had been. “I want you to accompany me … to appear to be with me. You understand?”

I did understand him, just as easily as I once had. I saw just what he meant. I was to go with him to the seaside, to give the impression that I had left Milo. That my marriage had been a mistake. Emmeline had seen the society columns, the reports of my husband gallivanting across Europe without me; she would believe it.

I suddenly comprehended that there would be good reason for me to talk to Emmeline, how I would have authority when Gil didn’t.

Gil had said he didn’t trust Rupert Howe. I knew he was right. I knew Gil had seen in Rupert the same thing that had caught my attention when I had met him.

Emmeline’s Rupert had reminded me of Milo.

My decision was almost immediate. “I should be delighted to come,” I said. “I should like to keep Emmeline from making a mistake, if I possibly can.”

Gil smiled warmly, relief washing across his features, and I found myself returning the smile. The prospect of a week at the seaside in the company of old friends was not an unappealing one, at that.

Of course, had I known the mayhem that awaited, I would have been more reluctant to offer my services.

Copyright © 2014 by Ashley Weaver

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Sort by: Showing all of 3 Customer Reviews
  • Posted October 23, 2014

    MURDER AT THE BRIGHTWELL focuses on well-to-do Amory Ames who, a

    MURDER AT THE BRIGHTWELL focuses on well-to-do Amory Ames who, after five years seems to find herself in a less-than-satisfactory marriage with ne’er-do-well Milo. She agrees to accompany her former fiancé, Gil Trent, to a seaside resort in an effort to dissuade Gil’s sister Emmeline from marrying the disreputable Rupert Howe. As might be expected, shortly after their arrival at the resort Rupert meets an untimely end and, in short order, Gil is suspected of having done the deed. This, of course, prompts Amory to do a little sleuthing of her own. When Milo unexpectedly appears at the Brightwell, he and Amory form an uneasy alliance to clear Gil’s name. A second murder complicates matters, leaving Amory to ferret out the real murderer, keep herself from becoming the next victim, and, at the same time, decide if she and Milo will be able to repair their faltering marriage or if her heart truly belongs to another.

    The disparate cast of likely [and unlikely] suspects is an intriguing mix --- think Clue set in a luxurious hotel circa 1932. Add the genre’s requisite secrets, a hint or two of romance, and a perfect atmospheric setting; the result is a delightful cozy read.

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  • Posted October 17, 2014

    Check out the full review at Kritters Ramblings  A fantastic ga

    Check out the full review at Kritters Ramblings

     A fantastic game of clue as the reader follows wealthy Amory Ames as she puts herself into a love triangle on holiday where a murder occurs and she must help find out who the killer is - it was so good!  With quite the cast of characters, I would suggest taking a few notes so as the book goes along you can refer back to them.  I had a time with the couples and remembering their quirks!  

    I absolutely loved this book.  The twists and turns were perfectly timed and I loved the final outcome - the killer part at least.  I am not sure I loved the outcome of the love triangle, but it didn't make me like the book any less.  

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    Posted December 7, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

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