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No Man's Nightingale (Chief Inspector Wexford Series #24) [NOOK Book]

Overview

From crime legend Ruth Rendell, the gripping new novel in her “beloved” (USA Today) Inspector Wexford series, which will soon mark its fiftieth anniversary

A female vicar named Sarah Hussain is discovered strangled in her Kingsmarkham vicarage. Maxine, the gossipy cleaning woman who finds the body, happens to also be in the employ of former Chief Inspector Reginald Wexford and his wife. When called on by his old deputy, Wexford, who has taken ...
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No Man's Nightingale (Chief Inspector Wexford Series #24)

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Overview

From crime legend Ruth Rendell, the gripping new novel in her “beloved” (USA Today) Inspector Wexford series, which will soon mark its fiftieth anniversary

A female vicar named Sarah Hussain is discovered strangled in her Kingsmarkham vicarage. Maxine, the gossipy cleaning woman who finds the body, happens to also be in the employ of former Chief Inspector Reginald Wexford and his wife. When called on by his old deputy, Wexford, who has taken to reading The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire as a retirement project, leaps at the chance to tag along with the investigators. Wexford is intrigued by the unusual circumstances of the murder, but he’s also desperate to escape the chatty Maxine.

A single mother to a teenage girl, Hussain was a woman working in a male-dominated profession. Of mixed race and an outspoken church reformer, she had turned some in her congregation against her, including the conservative vicar’s warden. Could one of her enemies in the church have gone so far as to kill her? Or could it have been the elderly next-door gardener with a muddled alibi?

As Wexford searches the vicar’s house alongside the police, he sees a book, Newman’s Apologia Pro Vita Sua, lying on Hussain’s bedside table. Inside it is a letter serving as a bookmark. Without thinking much, Wexford puts it into his pocket. Wexford soon realizes he has made a grave error—he’s removed a piece of evidence from the crime scene. Yet what he finds inside begins to illuminate the murky past of Sarah Hussain. Is there more to her than meets the eye?

No Man’s Nightingale is Ruth Rendell’s masterful twenty-fourth installment in one of the great crime series of all time.
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Editorial Reviews

Library Journal
11/01/2013
Perhaps he retired officially, but Wexford is eager to jump in when asked to by his former deputy. What to make of a strangled vicar in Wexford's 25th case (after The Vault)? Noteworthy: this series is on the cusp of its 50th anniversary! (Starts with From Doon with Death) [See Prepub Alert, 5/13/13.]
Publishers Weekly
09/02/2013
In Rendell’s absorbing 24th Inspector Wexford novel (after 2011’s The Vault), the Kingsmarkham, England, sleuth tries to find out who strangled the Rev. Sarah Hussain in the vicarage of St. Peter’s Church, and why. The fact that Hussain was biracial and a single mother had galvanized bigots near and far, who resented her very existence as well as her modernizing the liturgy. When Wexford’s grandson, Robin, begins dating Sarah’s daughter, Clarissa, Robin gets entangled in identifying Clarissa’s sperm-donor father—further upping the ante for Wexford. Is a white power group responsible for killing Sarah, or had a personal relationship curdled into fury? Suspects abound: the shiftless depressive Jeremy Legg; the Anglican traditionalist Dennis Cuthbert; and Gerald Watson, a stuffy old flame of the murdered woman. Wexford’s strengths as a man and as a detective are his calmness and resilience. A serene atheist, he looks to the conscience of humanity and Britain’s flawed but well-intended laws to glean whatever justice can exist today. Agent: Peter Matson, Sterling Lord Literistic. (Nov.)
From the Publisher
"No one surpasses Ruth Rendell when it comes to stories of obsession, istability, and malignant coincidence."

“Unequivocally the most brilliant mystery writer of our time.

“Ruth Rendell is my dream writer. Her prose style...has the disquieting intimacy of an alien touch in the dark.”

“It's a pleasure to report that Ruth Rendell, at the age of 82 and after publishing more than 60 books, has given us yet another gem. A pleasure but not a surprise, since Rendell has for years, along with her friend P.D. James, been bringing new sophistication and psychological depth to the traditional English mystery.”

“The characters jump off the page. The page-to-page surprises are so clever that the reader is left agape at each twist and turn. The pieces fit together brilliantly.

Washington Post
“Rendell has for years, along with her friend P.D. James, been bringing new sophistication and psychological depth to the traditional English mystery.”
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
“The characters jump off the page. The page-to-page surprises are so clever that the reader is left agape at each twist and turn. The pieces fit together brilliantly.
The Seattle Times
"I’m happy to report that RuthRendell’s “No Man’sNightingale” is as absorbingand rewarding as her other Inspector Wexford novels… Supporting charactersstand out. So does Rendell’s typically clear-eyed examination of a vexingsocial issue: In this case it’s racism."
Stephen King
"No one surpasses Ruth Rendell when it comes to stories of obsession, istability, and malignant coincidence."
Richmond Times-Dispatch
"Rendell ... has long mastered the art of suspense and the ability to supply subtle clues to the alert reader. She explores social issues and examines obsession and human weakness, and she does so with understated but memorable prose and a touch of wry humor. The dark song she sings in No Man’s Nightingale will, as always, entrance devotees of smart and heartfelt fiction."
Patricia Cornwell
“Unequivocally the most brilliant mystery writer of our time.
Charlotte News & Observer
"Inspector Wexford [is] the hardest-working retired policeman in show biz…. Ruth Rendell explores bigotry in its various forms, from overt racism to unconscious assumptions in otherwise open-minded people."
Bookreporter
“Ruth Rendell outdoes herself in NO MAN'S NIGHTINGALE, her 24th Inspector Wexford novel. In this tangled and labyrinthine book, she tackles social problems as well as solves the murder of a prominent woman in the community…Rendell doesn't let her fans down.”
The New York Times Book Review - Marilyn Stasio
"'Subtle' is an inadequate word for Ruth Rendell. So are 'crafty,' 'cunning,' 'clever' and 'sly.'"
Los Angeles Times - Jonathan Shapiro
“If you’re unfamiliar with Ruth Rendell, if you’ve somehow managed to miss her sixty or so books … then, congratulations: Your reading life is about to get infinitely richer."
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette - Robert Croan
"A novel by Ruth Rendell is like none other..... The results are seldom what we expect them to be, and that is part of this author's special genius."
USA Today - Charles Finch
“[Rendell’s] new Inspector Wexford novel, the 24th in the series, is as refined, probing,and intelligent as prior installments… She integrates her themes of religious belief, class in England, and womanhood so effortlessly that the book is never less than a pleasure.”
The Cleveland Plain-Dealer
"Ror readers who have loved this series over the decades, it’s still nice to spend time with the Wexfords."
Boston Globe - Daneet Steffens
"Rendell unspools anentertaining cast of characters… Lovely touches of detail… Best of all forWexford fans, the book affords some terrific moments between the retired sleuthand [Detective Superintendent Mike] Burden."
Kirkus Reviews
2013-10-19
Chief Inspector Reginald Wexford (The Vault, 2011, etc.) may have retired from the Kingsmarkham Police, but murder keeps finding him, this time by invading his own neighborhood. Having a new vicar who's an unmarried Irish-Indian mother has scandalized old-guard warden Dennis Cuthbert and quite a few members of the St. Peter's congregation. But would any of them really have hated Sarah Hussain enough to have strangled her? Detective Superintendent Mike Burden invites Wexford, his old boss, to accompany him on his rounds of questioning. One promising line of inquiry ends with the suicide of a suspect who confesses to unhappiness and bad behavior but not to murder; another, to a split between two old colleagues when Burden arrests gardener Duncan Crisp, who Wexford believes is innocent. It's hard carrying on an investigation with no warrant card after the case has been officially closed, but Wexford has a secret weapon: Maxine Sams, the superlatively gossipy cleaner he shares with several neighbors. Maxine, among the most sharply realized of all Rendell's characters, is essentially a comic figure, but there's nothing comic about her son Jason, a supermarket manager whose dodgy relationship with his landlord, Jeremy Legg, goes seriously awry with the unexpected return from Europe of Jeremy's ex-wife, Diane Stow, whose council flat Jeremy has been illegally renting out. Still more subplots (who fathered Sarah's daughter Clarissa?) and hints of old sins (how did her husband, Leo, really die?) filtered through unreliable memories and personalities give the neighborhood a sense of thick and vibrant life, though they virtually guarantee that the revelation of Sarah's killer will be only one more in a series of revelations that come not with a triumphant flourish but a dying fall. The insistence on plumbing the past makes this sedate, quirky whodunit read like an uneven collaboration between Rendell and her doomy alter ego Barbara Vine (The Child's Child, 2012, etc.).
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781476744490
  • Publisher: Scribner
  • Publication date: 11/5/2013
  • Series: Chief Inspector Wexford Series , #24
  • Sold by: SIMON & SCHUSTER
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 288
  • Sales rank: 19,838
  • File size: 2 MB

Meet the Author

Ruth Rendell
Ruth Rendell has won three Edgar Awards, the highest accolade from Mystery Writers of America, as well as four Gold Daggers and a Diamond Dagger for outstanding contribution to the genre from England’s prestigious Crime Writers’ Association. Her remarkable career has spanned more than fifty years, with more than sixty books published. A member of the House of Lords, she lives in London.

Biography

From the start of her illustrious career, Ruth Rendell's novels have blurred the distinction between literature and commercial fiction. Although Rendell is classified as a writer of mysteries and crime thrillers, her elegant prose and superb literary skills elevate her far above the conventions of those genres.

Born Ruth Barbara Grasemann in London in 1930, she attended the Loughton County High School for Girls in Essex, then went to work as a features writer for the Essex newspapers. In 1950, she married her boss at the newspaper, journalist Donald Rendell. (They divorced in 1975, remarried two years later, and remained together until his death in 1999.) For the next decade, she juggled marriage, motherhood, and part-time writing. She produced at least two unpublished novels before hitting pay dirt in 1964 with From Doon with Death, the first mystery to feature Chief Inspector Reginald 'Reg' Wexford of the Kingsmarkham Police Force. An immediate bestseller, the book launched Rendell's career and marked the beginning of one of the most successful and enduring series in detective fiction.

In 1965, Rendell published her second novel, a deft crime thriller (with no police presence) entitled To Fear a Painted Devil. For 20 years, she was content to alternate installments in the Wexford series with a steady stream of bestselling standalones that explored darker themes like envy, sexual obsession, and the tragic repercussions of miscommunication. Then, in 1986, she began a third strand of fiction under the name Barbara Vine. The very first of these books, A Dark-Adapted Eye, earned a prestigious Edgar Award.

From the get-go, the pseudonymous Vine novels had a separate DNA, although Rendell has always had difficulty pinpointing the distinction. In an interview with NPR, she tried to explain: "I don't think the Barbara Vines are mysteries in any sense. I must say that. They are different, and that is partly how I decide. The idea would come to me and I would know at once whether it was to be a Barbara Vine or a Ruth Rendell ... The Barbara Vine is much more slowly paced. It is a much more in-depth, searching sort of book; it doesn't necessarily have a murder in it. It's almost always set partly in the past, sometimes quite a long way in the past. And I think all these things come together and make them very different from the Ruth Rendells."

Under both names, Rendell has garnered numerous awards, including three American Edgars and multiple Gold and Silver Daggers from England's distinguished Crime Writers' Association. In 1996, she was made a Commander of the British Empire; and in 1997, a Life Peerage was conferred on her as Baroness Rendell of Babergh. Although, in her own words, she was "slightly stunned" by the peerage, she takes her responsibilities quite seriously, writing in the mornings and attending the House of Lords several afternoons a week.

Praise for Rendell is lavish and seemingly unqualified. John Mortimer once proclaimed that she would surely have won the Booker if she had not been pigeonholed as a "crime writer." Nobel Laureate Toni Morrison has identified Rendell as one of her favorite authors. And Joyce Carol Oates has called her "one of the finest practitioners of the craft in the English-speaking world."

Good To Know

While working as a journalist, Rendell once reported on a local club's annual dinner without actually attending. Her story omitted the crucial fact that the after-dinner speaker had dropped dead at the podium in the middle of his speech! She resigned before being fired.

The pseudonym Barbara Vine derives from the combination of Rendell's middle name and her great-grandmother's maiden name.

"I wouldn't keep my age a secret even if I had the chance," Rendell has said. "But I don't have the chance. Regularly, on February 17, the newspapers tell their readers my age."

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    1. Also Known As:
      Barbara Vine
    1. Date of Birth:
      February 17, 1930
    2. Place of Birth:
      London, England
    1. Education:
      Loughton County High School for Girls, Essex

Read an Excerpt

No Man’s Nightingale


  • MAXINE WAS PROUD of having three jobs. These days more and more people had none. She had no sympathy for them but congratulated herself on her own initiative. Two mornings a week she cleaned for Mrs. Wexford, two mornings for Mrs. Crocker, afternoons for two other Kingsmarkham women, did gardening and cleaned cars for Mr. Wexford and Dr. Crocker and babysat every evening where she was wanted for those young enough to need a baby-sitter. Cleaning she did for the women and gardening and car-washing for the men because she had never believed in any of that feminism or equality stuff. It was a well-known fact that men didn’t notice whether a house was clean or not, and normal women weren’t interested in cars or lawns. Maxine charged maximum rates for baby-sitting except for her son and his partner, who got her services for free. As for the others, those who had kids must expect to pay for them. She’d had four and she knew.

She was a good worker, reliable, punctual, and reasonably honest, and the only condition she made was payment in cash. Wexford, who after all had until recently been a policeman, demurred at that but eventually gave in the way the tax inspector up the road did. After all, at least a dozen other households would have paid almost anything to secure Maxine’s services. She had one drawback. She talked. She talked not just while she was having a break for a cup of tea or while she was getting out or putting away the tools, but all the time she was working and to whoever happened to be in the room or upstairs in the kitchen. The work got done and efficiently while the words poured out on a steady monotone.

That day she began on a story of how her son Jason, now manager of the Kingsmarkham Questo supermarket, had dealt with a man complaining about one of Jason’s checkout girls. The woman had apparently called him “elderly.” But Jason had handled it brilliantly, pacifying the man and sending him home in a supervisor’s car. “Now my Jason used to be a right tearaway,” Maxine went on, and not for the first time. “Not in one of them gangs, I’m not saying that, and he never got no ASBOs, but a bit of shoplifting, it was like it came natural to him, and out all night and underage drinking—well, binge-drinking like they call it. As for the smack and what do they call them, description drugs—mind Mr. Wexford can’t hear me, hope he’s out of hearshot—all that he went in for, and now, since him and Nicky had a kid, he’s a changed character. The perfect dad, I still can’t believe it.” She applied impregnated wadding to the silver with renewed vigour, then a duster, then the wadding once more. “She’s over a year old now, his Isabella is, but when she was a neo-nettle, it was never Nicky got up to her in the night, she never had to. No, it was my Jason had her out of her cot before the first peep was out of her. Walked her up and down, cooing at her like I’ve never heard a bloke go on so. Mind you, that Nicky never showed no gratitude. I call it unnatural a mum with a new baby sleeping the night through, and I’ve told her so.”

Even Maxine sometimes had to pause to draw breath. Dora Wexford seized her opportunity, said she had to go out and Maxine’s money was in an envelope on the hall table. The resumed monologue pursued her as she ran out to the conservatory to tell her husband she’d be back in an hour or so.

Wexford was sitting in a cane armchair in autumn sunshine doing what many a man or woman plans to do on retirement but few put into practice, reading The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. He had embarked on it expecting to find it heavy going, but instead becoming fast enraptured and enjoying every word. Reaching the end of the first volume, he was happy to anticipate five more and told Dora she’d picked her moment to desert him.

“It’s your turn,” she whispered.

“I didn’t know we had a schedule.”

“You know now. Here starts your tour of duty.”

As Dora left, Maxine swooped, pushing the vacuum cleaner and continuing to hold on to it while she peered over his shoulder.

“Got a guide to Rome there, I see. Going there on your holidays, are you? Me and my sister took in Rome on our Ten Italian Cities tour. Oh, it was lovely but hot, you wouldn’t believe. I said to my Jason, you and Nicky want to go there on your honeymoon when you get around to tying the knot there’s no untying, only these days there is of course, no point in getting married if you ask me. I never did and I’m not ashamed of it.” She started up the vacuum cleaner but continued to talk. “It’s Nicky as wants it, one of them big white weddings like they all want these days, costs thousands, but she’s a big spender, good job my Jason’s in work like so many’s not.” The voice became a buzz under the vacuum’s roar. She raised it. “I don’t reckon my Jason’d go away on a honeymoon or anything else come to that without Isabella. He can’t bear that kid out of his sight for his eight hours’ work let alone a week. Talk about worshipping the ground she treads on, only she don’t tread yet, crawls more like.” A pause to change the tool on the end of the vacuum-cleaner hose. “You’ll know about that poor lady vicar getting herself killed and me finding the body. It was all over the papers and on the telly. I reckon you take an interest though you’re not doing the work no more. I had a cleaning job there with her up till a couple of weeks back, but there was things we never saw eye to eye on, not to mention her not wanting to pay cash, wanted to do it on line if you please and I couldn’t be doing with that. She always left the back door open and I popped in to collect the money she owed me and it gave me a terrible turn. No blood, of course, not with strangling, but still a shock. Don’t bear thinking of, does it? Still, I reckon you had to think of things like that, it being your job. You must be relieved getting all that over with . . .”

Standing up, clutching his book, “I’m going to have a bath!” Wexford shouted above the vacuum’s roar.

Maxine was startled from her monologue. “It’s ten thirty.”

“A very good time to have a bath,” said Wexford, making for the stairs, reading as he went the last lines of volume one, describing another murder, that of Julius Caesar: . . . during the greatest part of a year, the orb of the sun appeared pale and without splendour. This season of obscurity, which cannot surely be compared with the preternatural obscurity of the Passion, had already been celebrated by most of the poets and historians of that memorable age. . . .

His mobile was ringing. Detective Superintendent Burden, known to the phone-contacts list as Mike.

“I’m off to have a look at St. Peter’s Vicarage, taking Lynn with me and I thought you might like to come too.”

Wexford had already had a shower that day. A bath at 10:30 a.m. wasn’t needful, only seized upon as a refuge from Maxine. “I’d love to.” He tried to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice, tried and failed.

Sounding surprised, Burden said, “Don’t get excited. It’s no big deal.”

“It is for me.”

He closed the bathroom door. Probably, Maxine wouldn’t open it but would perhaps conclude that he was having an exceptionally long bath. The vacuum cleaner still roaring, he escaped out the front door, closing it after him by an almost silent turning of the key in the lock. Taking an interested member of the public—that, after all, was what he was—on a call or calls that were part of a criminal investigation was something Wexford had seldom done while he was himself an investigating officer. And his accompanying Superintendent Ede of the Met on the vault enquiries was a different matter as he, though unpaid, had had a kind of job as Ede’s aide. This visit, this opportune escape from Maxine, was undergone, he knew, because, once senior and junior officers, over the years they had become friends. Burden knew, none better, how much Wexford would wish to be involved in solving the mystery of who had killed the Reverend Sarah Hussain.

ALL WEXFORD KNEW of the death, apart from what Maxine had mentioned that morning, was what he had read in yesterday’s Guardian and seen on the day-before-yesterday’s regional television news. And seen of course when passing the vicarage. He could have seen more online, but he had cringed from its colourful headlines. Sarah Hussain was far from being the only woman ordained priest of the Church of England, but perhaps she was the only one to have been born in the United Kingdom of a white Irishwoman and an Indian immigrant. All this had been in the newspaper along with some limited biographical details, including information about her conversion to Christianity. There had been a photograph too of a gaunt woman with an aquiline nose in an academic cap and gown, olive-skinned but with large, deep-set, black eyes and what hair that showed a glossy jet-black. She had been forty-eight when she died and a single mother.

Her origins, her looks—striking but not handsome—her age, her single parenthood, and, above all, that conversion made him think that her life could not have been easy. He would have liked to know more, and no doubt, he soon would. At the moment he wasn’t even sure of where the murder had taken place, only that it was inside the vicarage. It wasn’t a house he had ever been in, though Dora had. He was due to meet Mike and DC Lynn Fancourt in St. Peter’s Church porch, the one at the side where the vestry was.

The vicarage was some distance away and he had no need to pass the church to reach it. Heading for the gate that led out of Queen Street, he passed a young man pushing a baby buggy, a not particularly unusual sight these days, but he recognized this one as Maxine’s son Jason. As industrious as his mother if not as vociferous, he must be having a day off from his job as a supermarket manager. Curious to see the child whose father worshipped the ground she crawled on, Wexford looked under the buggy hood and saw a pretty, pink-cheeked blonde, her long-lashed eyes closed in sleep. Wexford hastily withdrew his head from Jason’s glare. No doubt the man was wary of any male person eyeing his little girl. Quite right too, he thought, himself the parent of girls who were now middle-aged women.

He was a little early and by design. In his position it was better for him to be waiting for them than they for him. But Burden was seldom late, and the two of them appeared almost immediately from the high street. All the years he had known him, Wexford had never ceased to marvel at Burden’s sartorial elegance. Where did he learn to dress like that? As far as he knew, Mike went shopping no more than any other man of Wexford’s acquaintance. And it couldn’t be the influence of his wives, neither of whom, Jean, long dead, or Jenny, the present one, had had much interest in clothes, preferring in their own cases no more than attention to “neatness and fashion,” as Jane Austen has it. But here was Burden today, his abundant but short hair now iron grey, his beige jacket (surely cashmere) over white shirt with beige-and-blue-figured tie, his beautifully creased trousers of denim, though discernibly—how? How could one tell?—not jeans.

“Good to see you,” Burden said, though he had seen him and eaten lunch with him three days before.

Lynn, whom he hadn’t seen for as much as a year, said in a respectful tone, “Good morning, sir.”

They walked along the path among gravestones and rosebushes towards Vicarage Lane. It was October and the leaves had only just begun to fall. Green, spiky conkers lay on the grass under the chestnut trees.

“I don’t know how much you know about this poor woman’s murder, Reg,” Burden said.

“Only what I read in the paper and saw on TV.”

“You don’t go to church, do you?”

“I hesitate to say my wife does, though it’s true, and you know it already. She knew Sarah Hussain but through church, not socially. Where was she killed?”

“In the vicarage. In her living room. You tell him, Lynn. You were one of the two officers who were the first to see the body.”

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 13 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(2)

4 Star

(7)

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Sort by: Showing all of 13 Customer Reviews
  • Posted April 4, 2014

    From Ruth Rendell

    One of my favorite mystery writers and favorite characters. This is a late-day story of an older but still wise Wexford. Not just for fans, but they shouldn't miss it.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 2, 2014

    Wexford is now retired but still can't stop being a copper--it's

    Wexford is now retired but still can't stop being a copper--it's wonderful to visit with him and Dora, still one of fiction's most believable married couples, and their family. Wexford may be getting old but he still has his wits about him. Thoroughly enjoyed this book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted January 3, 2014

    Love Inspector Wexford

    A many-layered and thoughtful novel with a great mystery story to make it an enjoyable read. Kind of sad that the Inspector retired but it makes for some fun new twists. A very good read.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 18, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    Not Her Usual Standard

    While I thoroughly enjoy the Inspector Wexford mysteries, this book seems to peter out at the end, the solution and resolution were not decisive or satisfactory. Still, you would go a long way to find an interesting and enjoyable an author as Ruth Rendell.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 13, 2014

    Must reading for mystery lovers!

    The book was full of twists and turns, making it difficult to figure out just "who did it." This always makes for enjoyable reading.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 30, 2014

    Ruth Rendell, that means 5 stars

    Always, always, always, Ruth Rendell writes wonderful stories. For those of us who are 'Seniors', we love books with a good mystery, no foul language, respectful people in authority, etc. This tells nothing about the story--but for me, it tells the important part. Too many writers rely on expletives, and mayhem to further their story line---Ruth Rendell does not. Her stories are excellent and you are not assaulted with 'trash'. Loved it.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted May 20, 2014

    more from this reviewer

    Well-written with believable characters and no gratuitous violen

    Well-written with believable characters and no gratuitous violence. Much better than I expected given that it's 24th in the series. I think I'll read much more in this series, beginning with numero uno. 

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  • Posted January 3, 2014

    Recommend

    Wexford,retired, is awkward and rings a little false. Well told cosy. May be time to use
    Burden's view.

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  • Posted December 11, 2013

    Great read, as always!

    Another psychological thriller from The Master, Ruth Rendell. I love the Inspector Wexford novels and have read them for years.
    This one does not disappoint.
    You may also like: Peter James, Val McDermid and Peter Robinson.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 22, 2013

    very disappointing

    I have read all the Wexford series and find it difficult to believe this one was written by Rendell! The characters are flat and unrecognizable from the earlier books in the series. I didn't even finish the book I was so disappointed. Wexford retired in the previous book and this book is so poorly written it is like someone created very unpleasant characters in Wexford, et al.

    Dr. Judith Barnes

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 12, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 22, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted November 20, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

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