This was my first read of a Henry Gamadge book, so I was learning as I went. I will go back and check out the earlier books in the series as I enjoyed this one.I had no idea of Gamadge's age and was surprised to find he was relative young. I enjoyed his wife and her confidence in who she was--cer...
One star just for the premise - a woman is last seen in an arbor with a book of Byron poetry in her hands. She is never seen again. It is 1840. Hundred years later, in 1940, she re-appears, exactly as she was, having not aged even a single day. Interesting, right? Sadly, the solution that arrives...
Almost like time-travel...I can't actually be there (1940's), but get to experience the accepted conventions of the time while taking a murder mystery ride. The intriguing mystery with a touch of the supernatural, as well as twists, is not to be missed. I enjoyed the cleverness and the dry humor ...
The discovery of young Amberly Cowden's body at the base of a cliff, as well as the strange events apparently related to the impoverished acting troupe at the Cove, disrupt Gamage's restful golf retreat. Reprint.
The Clayborn clan has been waiting 25 years to divvy up Grandmama's fortune, locked up by her will and in a small room in the Clayborn mansion. Tomorrow The Room is to be opened, and the Clayborns can't wait to get their fingers on the old lady's reportedly priceless button collection. Harriet Cl...
Strange things were going on at Underhill, the Hutter family's country estate. One of the weekend guests blamed it on malevolent spirits, accidently unleashed by Florence Hutter Mason's fiddling with a Ouija board. Gamadge agreed the ominous messages typed into the manuscript copy of Florrie's ...
Just about any of the guests at Johnny Redfield's party seems to have a good reason to have killed the guest of honor, Johnny's Californian aunt who, with her astral name and vague pretensions of mysticism, does not exactly blend in the elegant New York atmosphere that surrounds her. And what's m...
He asked himself questions to which he could find no answer. These friends that had dropped in on Miss Iris Vance were an ill-assorted group, but they seemed to know one another well and to have an understanding. What were two toughs like Mrs. Spiker and Mr. Bowles doing i...
He explored his pocket for the paper ball which he had rescued from the wastebasket, and unrolled it carefully. It proved to be nothing but the Sunday section of a local timetable, with a pencilled arrow marking Rockliffe station on the Hudson. His watch said 4:30; there was a train for Rockliffe...
The cab shot after it just before the traffic policeman’s hand rose against the oncoming tide. “Friday, Friday, Friday,” chanted the driver. “All going to Long Island, and what do we say when they ask us where we’re going?” Indus produced his licens...