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    In This Grave Hour: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    In This Grave Hour: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    In This Grave Hour: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    Ebook378 pages6 hours

    In This Grave Hour: A Maisie Dobbs Novel

    By Jacqueline Winspear

    4/5

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    "A female investigator every bit as brainy and battle-hardened as Lisbeth Salander." — Maureen Corrigan, NPR's Fresh Air, on Maisie Dobbs

    The thirteenth installment in Jacqueline Winspear's enormously popular New York Times bestselling mystery series. As Britain declares war on Germany, the indomitable Maisie Dobbs stumbles on the deaths of refugees who may have been more than ordinary people seeking sanctuary on English soil.

    Sunday September 3rd 1939. At the moment Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain broadcasts to the nation Britain’s declaration of war with Germany, a senior Secret Service agent breaks into Maisie Dobbs' flat to await her return. Dr. Francesca Thomas has an urgent assignment for Maisie: to find the killer of a man who escaped occupied Belgium as a boy, some twenty-three years earlier during the Great War.

    In a London shadowed by barrage balloons, bomb shelters and the threat of invasion, within days another former Belgian refugee is found murdered. And as Maisie delves deeper into the killings of the dispossessed from the “last war," a new kind of refugee — an evacuee from London — appears in Maisie's life. The little girl billeted at Maisie’s home in Kent does not, or cannot, speak, and the authorities do not know who the child belongs to or who might have put her on the “Operation Pied Piper” evacuee train. They know only that her name is Anna.

    As Maisie’s search for the killer escalates, the country braces for what is to come. Britain is approaching its gravest hour — and Maisie could be nearing a crossroads of her own.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateMar 14, 2017
    ISBN9780062436610
    Author

    Jacqueline Winspear

    Jacqueline Winspear is the author of the New York Times bestsellers The Consequences of Fear, The American Agent, and To Die but Once, as well as thirteen other bestselling Maisie Dobbs novels and The Care and Management of Lies, a Dayton Literary Peace Prize finalist. Jacqueline has also published two nonfiction books, What Would Maisie Do? and a memoir, This Time Next Year We’ll Be Laughing. Originally from the United Kingdom, she divides her time between California and the Pacific Northwest.

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    • 3/5
      I am on a Jacqueline Winspear journey to read the latest books in the Maisie Dobbs series. Jacqueline Winspear portrays a courageous and intelligent woman. Maisie Dobbs surprises me with her sound reasoning and attention to detail. I do feel that her treatment of Billy Beale and Sandra merits a little harsh criticism, as Maisie acts hoity at times when talking to them. The story centers on the approaching of WWII and the horrors that another war will bring. Maisie discovers a murderer and uncovers the mystery surrounding a small girl. I wish I was half as smart as Maisie.
    • 4/5
      Maisie Dobbs is back at work in London as a private investigator, with the assistance of the dedicated Billy Beale and Sandra Pickering. Maisie still grieves because of the losses she has endured, but the passage of time is slowly easing her pain. Jacqueline Winspear's "In This Grave Hour" begins on September 3, 1939, the day that Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain declared war on Germany. Although no one is particularly shocked at the news, Maisie has good reason to be dismayed. She had been one of the courageous nurses who tended to wounded soldiers during the First World War. She dreads the prospect of further carnage.

      Dr. Francesca Thomas--who was part of the Belgian resistance and has ties to the British Secret Service--hires Maisie to look into the murder of Frederick Addens, a refugee who settled in England, married, and had two grown children. The perpetrator forced Addens to kneel down and then shot him in the head. Other deaths follow. Sensing that Francesca is not disclosing everything she knows, Maisie forges ahead with her routine of composing a case map to organize her thoughts. Subsequently, she, Billy, and Sandra conduct research, interview witnesses, and seek evidence that they hope will reveal the killer's identity.

      The mystery is engrossing, but it takes a back seat to the book's diverse and colorful characters, emotional resonance, and historical authenticity. The author conveys the horror of soldiers returning from the front shell-shocked and/or physically mutilated, and the despair of bereaved family members who learn that their loved ones will never return. As her inquiry proceeds, Maisie comes to realize that events from the past have cast a grim shadow on the present. Winspear enriches her tale with compelling subplots about Anna, a four-year-old orphan who steals Maisie's heart, a charming Alsatian dog named Emma, and touching scenes with Maisie's generous and wise in-laws, father, and stepmother. After a brief lull, the Second World War is about to erupt in full force, and Maisie's loyal fans can look forward to this courageous heroine once again placing herself in the line of fire.
    • 4/5
      Maisie Dobbs has reopened her investigative agency in her old offices and with her old assistant, Billy Boyle and her newer assistant, Sandra Pickering. The story begins on September 3, 1939, the day that Britain declared war with Germany. Maisie is approached by a former colleague in the intelligence community and asked to take on a case. Francesca Thomas now works for the Belgian embassy, and she asks Maisie to look into the deaths of Belgian refugees from the first world war. Meanwhile, Maisie’s father, her stepmother, and her late husband’s parents open their homes to children who’ve been evacuated from London. Maisie’s stepmother, Brenda, is troubled by one small girl who doesn’t seem to belong. The girl hasn’t spoken since she arrived. Maisie takes on the responsibility of finding out who the girl is, where she came from, and what needs to be done to care for her.This is a strong entry in the series. The last couple of books in the series involved more espionage than detection. In this book, Maisie returns to the type of case that attracted readers to this series in the first place, with the war as a backdrop. Maisie’s best friend, Priscilla Partridge, never fully recovered from the loss of her three brothers in the First World War. I have long been worried about Priscilla’s three sons, and indeed one of them has joined the RAF and his life will be in danger. While I look forward to Maisie’s subsequent adventures, I dread what might become of Priscilla’s boys and Billy’s sons.
    • 4/5
      All the expected flaws and virtues, but the mystery is sort of dumb.
    • 2/5
      The mystery was not as entertaining as it usually is in a Maisie Dobbs book and it's time that Maisie had a happy ending.
    • 4/5
      WW II has just begun and one by one a group of Belgium refugees still living in England since WW I are being found murdered.Maisie is asked by a former colleague from the Belgium Embassy to investigate...The book was well written and it held my interest. The historical references are accurate and of interest as well, as they make for a realistic plot & story line.
    • 4/5
      Winspear has done a good job of keeping Maisie's adventures fresh.
    • 3/5
      This is my first Maisie Dobbs mystery and if I spot one at a garage sale, I will pick it up. She creates the English society of the the 1930's and this story takes place in August 1939. In fact the opening page recalls August 4, 1939 when Great Britain declared war on Germany.Maisie is approached by Dr. Francesca Thomas who works as a spy for both Belgium and Britain and is someone Maisie has worked for in the past. Thomas asks Maisie to investigate the murder of a Belgian refugee from WW I that the police seem disinterested in doing much work to solve. Shortly the bodies start to pile up and they all seem to have a connection with fight from Belgium during the German advance in 1916.Maisie has a staff of three- Billy who does much of the leg work and strikes me that he gets amazing results when starting out with very limited information and Sandra, a young woman who maintains the office and does her research mainly by phone or the public library. Maisie's parents have a role in the story especially in the secondary case on which Maisie is working. It involves finding the identity of a five year old girl who turns up among the children being evacuated from London to escape the anticipated bombing by the Germans but there are no records as to who she is.The author does a good job of creating the atmosphere of fear but also determination that Brits felt as war was coming.
    • 5/5
      In This Grave Hour is the thirteenth novel in Jacqueline Winspear's wonderful Maisie Dobbs series.Winspear set the first book in 1929 England, ten years after the Great War. Maisie worked as a nurse in WWI, but has since trained as a psychologist and private investigator, opening her own agency.The cases that Winspear creates in her novels are always interesting, timely and well plotted. This latest finds England on the cusp of WWII. Hence the title...."In this grave hour, perhaps the most fateful in our history....for the second time in our lives for most of us, we are at war. King George VI, September 3, 1939."Maisie has worked with government agencies in the past and is approached by a Secret Service agent. The assignment? To quietly investigate the death of a Belgian refugee who landed in England over twenty years ago. Winspear always includes a secondary plot as well. This time, it's the unknown identity of a child evacuee who is billeted with Maisie's father. No one knows her name and she won't speak.I so enjoy the cases being solved the 'old-fashioned' way - with legwork, interviews, intuition and the careful piecing together of clues.These books are a comfortable, almost genteel read, if you will. The social customs, manners and mores of the times are all faithfully observed in Winspear's writing. I enjoy being transported to this time period. Winspear does a bang-up job of bringing time and place to life. The sense of duty, loyalty and 'can-do' in the face of adversity and hardship.But ultimately it is the character of Maisie that has me anticipating every new book in this series. Her quiet confidence, intelligence, compassion and bravery have endeared her to me. The supporting characters - family and co-workers are just as well drawn. It is that sense of settling down with an old friend that prefaces turning the first page in every new enter.In This Grave Hour was another excellent read for me. If you've not read Winspear before, I recommend starting with the first book, simply titled Maisie Dobbs, to fully appreciated the continuing timeline. This is an excellent historical mystery series and definitely recommended. (Best read with a pot of tea and a cosy chair
    • 3/5
      I've looked forward to a new book in the Maisie Dobbs series as the others have been quite entertaining & educational. However I was disappointed in the lack of care over details. The opera ticket, random characters, etc. I wish the author had spent a bit more time and created a novel that met the standards of her previous work.
    • 5/5
      I love the Maisie Dobbs novels! I really enjoyed this one because it's closer to a "typical" Maisie novel because she's back in London. World War II has been declared by England, so Maisie and the British are, once again, preparing for bombings and sacrifice. If you have never read Maisie Hobbs, started with the first book. Although each book is a stand alone murder mystery to be solved, Maisie's life is what makes you come back to the novels. I couldn't tell you who the murderer was in any book, but I can tell you all about Maisie, her loves, the people who work for her, and the tragedies they have all overcome. It's the characters that you come to know and what to revisit with each book, not the mysteries, that makes you want the next book.
    • 3/5
      The latest in Winspear's Maisie Dobbs series finds us at the very beginning of World War II. Maisie has been contacted by Dr. Francesca Thomas to find the person who has murdered a Belgium refugee form the Great War. Unlike the past two books, this volume veers from Maisie's less than successful forays into espionage and returns to a straight-forward murder mystery. She does make a rather foolish flight into almost Nazi territory in Belgium, but it is in pursuit of answers about the murderer, not some half-baked Nazi hunt like the last book.As an added plus an old flame makes an appearance & Maisie develops an attachment to an orphaned London evacuee, so, perhaps, she is going to have a chance, despite the war, to have some happiness in her life. If this comes to pass in subsequent books, that will be a very good thing.
    • 4/5
      I found this book a highly enjoyable read. It is fast-paced with an intriguing plot and the characters are well-drawn. In the last two books I read, it was difficult to tell one character from another sometimes, but Winspear is able to create distinct and yet realistic characters. This is formula fiction, of course, but the author avoids common pitfalls such as predictable storylines and characters that are merely an assemblage of curious and distinctive traits. I had read the first three or four books in the series, but had lost interest when Maisie did not seem to develop. I found the references to her recent tragic history in this book cloying, but there were also scenes -- like when her father insists she consider her motivation for helping the young girl, Anna -- that felt far more true-to-life. There and a few other places in the book you are approaching literary fiction and so I will continue to read this author.
    • 5/5
      Jacqueline Winspear's "In This Grave Hour" is the 13th in the Maisie Dobbs series and the first of her books that I have read. I enjoyed it thoroughly, and I will read more. I have read plot summaries of the remaining twelve books and I note that the books span the years between WWl and WWll. Though Maisie's adventures take her to many countries, including Belgium, Spain and India, she is "currently" based in the London area as a PI, supported by two others.The plot of this book revolves around the assassination style murder of a long-term (WWl) refugee from Belgium. Not long after there is another murder, and then....The story is very nicely paced and a quick read. This is a time and place that has long fascinated me, and I am delighted that Winspear has included so many little touches of 1939 London life, e.g., carrying gas masks over the shoulder, to enhance her story. The story unfolds quickly, the ending is very satisfying, and there is enough of a cliff-hanger or two to bring you back to the next one.Though I read tons of crime fiction, I am not big into twists - I think they've really been overdone. It's gotten to the point where the ultimate twist is.....no twists! "In This Grave Hour" has a few mild twists or turns if you will, but mostly it relies on very good writing. No naughty words, no romance - at least in this one; I'm guessing Maisie is in her late 40s. Similar novels are classified as "cozies". I wouldn't classify this as a cozy; my image of a cozy is a tottering old lady searching for clues and wearing comfortable shoes, an amateur discovering arcane details and nagging suspects (and readers). I don't like cozies, but I admit Maisie comes close.For those of you encountering Winspear for the first time, I would suggest a note card to track all the characters. I read a print version of this book and found it was not easy to flip back to recall where/when a character was earlier introduced - I'll remedy that by reading other Maisie books on my Kindle and use the search function. Update: I just ordered the 11th book, "A Dangerous Place". If I'm still in love after reading it, I will circle back to #1, "Maisie Dobbs" (I really don't care for that name!) and read the whole series.
    • 5/5
      Who is killing the Belgium WW1 refugees that settled in England? And, why? As war is declared to starts WW2, Maisie undertakes to investigate the murders for the Belgian Embassy Always painstaking, introspective and thorough, she pursues the scant evidence and faint traces a painful but correct conclusion. The transition to wartime status is aptly portrayed whit the horrors of "The War to End all Wars" providing a foreboding elegy in the background.
    • 4/5
      As World War II erupts, Maisie Dobbs and her family and friends must cope with all which that portends. Once again, the author works her magic with regards to creating the feelings associated with the period of history via characters the reader can identify with. Excellent installment of this series!
    • 5/5
      I really enjoyed this book in the series. This has been one of my favorites. I loved al, the characters. Maisie and all of England have to realize that they are going to war again. They must all learn what their parts will be this time. I loved how this all came together. I received an ebook copy from edelweiss for a fair and honest opinion that I gave of my own free will.
    • 4/5
      Reading a Maisie Dobbs novel is like sitting down with an old friend. I love Winspears writing style, pace, introspection, vocabulary. Unfortunately, I found this plot not as engaging as previous ones.
    • 5/5
      The last few Maisie Dobbs books have found Maisie in Germany and Spain, away from her friends and family, trying to heal from a horrible tragedy. The latest book, In This Grave Hour, Maisie is back in London and back to work as a private investigator and psychologist.That means that the characters we have grown to love- her assistants Billy and Sandra, her father and stepmother Brenda, best friend Priscilla and Pris' husband and sons- are back too. They were sorely missed.As the story opens in 1939, England has reluctantly declared war on Germany. We first met Maisie when she was a nurse and ambulance driver in France during WWI, and we have seen the havoc wreaked on her and the people she loved because of war. They are all wary of what will happen, but many (including Maisie) know how dangerous Hitler and Nazi Germany have become.Francesca Thomas, a Belgian national we have met in a previous book, returns to ask Maisie to investigate the murder of a Belgian refugee in London. Thomas is a shadowy figure, and she doesn't believe that the London police are very interested in discovering what happened.Maisie takes on the case, and she brings out the trusty case board for her and Billy and Sandra to work on. (This brings me great joy to see the case board again!) Maisie discovers that two other Belgian refugees have been murdered in the same fashion, a bullet to the back of the head while kneeling, so this case gets more complicated.The story resonates with today's news as war refugees from Syria have been flooding Europe and many of the countries to which they have been accepted are having issues as well. Nationalist movements are gaining ground in countries like England, France and Germany as millions of refugees seek safety from their war-torn home.Maisie gets involved with a man blinded and rendered disabled by WWI, as well as a young girl found at a train station alone amidst a group of refugees. Maisie recruits her father and stepmother to help her with the young girl.Using her wits and training, Maisie closes the case. And as WWII looms, Priscilla convinces Maisie to join her as she signs up to drive ambulances for wounded soldiers. It seems that in the next book, we will have come full circle, with Maisie and Priscilla helping out with the war effort.In This Grave Hour brings Maisie back to her home, family and friends, and it feels right. This is a strong book in the series, and I will be impatiently awaiting next year's story to see where WWII takes Maisie and company.It is particularly appropriate that each Maisie Dobbs book publishes in March, which is International Women's History Month. Maisie is a wonderful feminist heroine, and this series is great for high schoolers.
    • 4/5
      Still like her books. Interesting story. Not sure if the reason behind the murder makes sense.
    • 4/5
      This 13th book in the series is finally back in London.... it was great to have the "old gang" of Billy, Sandra and Maisie back together. It was interesting to read how the British people reacted to the declaration of War on 3 September, 1939. The murder cases were, as always, a bit convoluted, but the rest of the cast of characters made this quite enjoyable.I listened to the audiobook, and as always, Orlagh Cassidy's narration was outstanding!
    • 3/5
      Maisie looks into the murders of refuges from WWI from Belgium. Interesting plot, with the usual Maisie perfection!
    • 3/5
      Worth reading the first chapter that captures the atmosphere of a hot and humid day in September 1939 when the announcement of war was made via the radio (wireless!). So different from today's multi-channel communications! It's also worth reading about the reactions of the listeners, who had come through the first world war, and now realised (just over 20 years later) with some trepidation that they were going to have to re-live the same sort of challenges again. Particularly if they had children that were getting towards the age when they would be called-up.
    • 4/5
      The week after Britain declares war on Germany, Maisie takes a case for Dr. Thomas of the Belgian Embassy. A Belgian refugee from WWI has been murdered. But why is it so important to Dr. Thomas, and why is she worried that more murders may occur, and is she being completely honest with Maisie? There is much to be uncovered.
    • 5/5
      2017, Harper Audio, Read by Orlagh CassidyPublisher’s Summary: adapted from Audible.comEngland 1939. A year has passed since we last heard from Maisie Dobbs – she was on a dangerous mission inside Nazi Germany then, where she encountered an old enemy and the Führer himself. Maisie is back home in England now – yet neither she nor her nation is safe. Britain has just declared war on Germany and is mobilizing for the devastating battle ahead. Maisie is plunged into a treacherous battle of her own when she stumbles on the deaths of a group of refugees, and suspects the enemy may be closer than anyone knows.My Review:Great characters, as I’ve come to expect from Winspear. The usual, continuing cast is on board: Billy Beale, Frankie Dobbs, Priscilla Partridge, Robert MacFarlane. In addition, we have Dr Francesca Thomas, who urgently contacted Maisie when the first of several Belgian refugees was murdered. Thomas is enigmatic: a diplomat, a brilliant mind, and a trained killer. The adorable, orphaned Anna, who is taken in at Chelstone to live with Frankie and Brenda Dobbs, pulls on Maisie’s hearstrings. And Maisie cannot but help herself indulge the little girl – but is her indulgence a trigger for the unthinkable grief she had to overcome in losing both James and her unborn child? Wonderful read listen, as always. Orlagh Cassidy is divine in this narrator role. I do hope Winspear continues to write this series!
    • 5/5
      When I grow up, I want to be just like Maisie Dobbs. She’s rich, but unassuming and hard working. She cares about not only her detective assignment, but her employees as well. She loves her family and she’s committed to helping make things better for others. Making things better for others isn’t easy as England has just declared war on Hitler’s Germany. In the midst of children being sent out of London, she finds herself drawn to a young girl who has been sent to live with her father and stepmother. Somehow finding out more about this young girl doesn’t interfere with her job of discovering who has killed Belgians who emigrated to England during the Great War. Another great story from Winspear. This isn’t the book to start reading the series. There’s too much information you need about Maisie to enjoy the story fully.
    • 5/5
      Jacqueline Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs is one of the most creatively written characters in fiction today, and In This Grave Hour is an outstanding addition to the series. The story begins on September 3, 1939, the day Great Britain officially declared war on Germany thereby formally entering World War 2. When Maisie returns home that evening, a Secret Service agent is waiting to hire Maisie to find the murderer of a man who had escaped Occupied Belgium during the Great War. This investigation leads Maisie down a complicated and fascinating path. Meanwhile, Maisie is dealing with a refugee issue of her own related to the new war.I was unaware of the influx of Belgians into Great Britain during World War 1 – some settling with families for the duration of the war and others setting up entire towns of Belgian citizens. While most returned home when the war was over, some stayed in England permanently. Winspear uses this incident as the basis for this novel and provides so many fascinating details regarding the entire refugee event and the impact on both countries.World War 2 is one of my favorite eras, and I have read so many books based then. I love stories that still manage to teach me new facts and stories about that time period. In This Grave Hour most certainly succeeds in that respect as Winspear brings the early months of the war to life demonstrating what it was like for Londoners. I didn’t know that Londoners carried gas masks everywhere (and left them many places too until they got used to keeping up with the masks) and that barrage balloons were a constant presence in the sky. I also learned that those early months were subsequently dubbed “The Phoney War” because it was months before Germany actually started bombing London lulling the populace into thinking that the war might never reach British soil. Winspear vividly conveys the horror of war and its impact on the lives of everyone involved, not just those who enlist. Many British subjects had barely recovered from the last war and could hardly fathom that war was upon them again. The title of the book is taken from King George’s speech given on that September 3rd which Winspear uses as an Epitaph: “In this grave hour, perhaps the most fateful in our history… for the second time in the lives of most of us, we are at war.” The title is perfect for the book.I loved In This Grave Hour. Thanks to Harper for the chance to read this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
    • 5/5
      Maisie Dobbs is hired to investigate the suspicious death of a WW1 Belgian refugee to Britain. Her client is the mysterious Francesca Thomas from a previous book in the series, who is now attached to the Belgian Embassy in London. Soon after Maisie begins her inquiries, a similar murder is discovered. Maisie feels that Francesca is keeping some information from her, but carries on with her investigation. Assisted by Billy and Sandra, her detectives, she enlists the support of DCI Caldwell, another returnee from a previous installment of this series. Everything leads to a connection among a group of Belgian refugees and Maisie looks for a motive for the killings. The story is well plotted and moves along at a brisk pace, up to an exciting conclusion as the murderer is unmasked.Maisie’s investigation is done against the background of the onset of WW2 in Britain. She is actually hired on the day war is declared. Everyone is carrying gas masks with them as they go about their daily business, fearful of an attack from the air. There are barrage balloons floating overhead which reinforces the ominous situation. School children are evacuated to the country which results in some of them being billeted with Maisie’s father and step-mother. One little girl stands out for Maisie’s attention and this story-line plays a significant part in the book. Similarly developments in the lives of Billy and Sandra crop up. Maisie’s lifelong friend Priscilla sees her boys gear up to join the war effort. The stage is set for Maisie to continue in the British war effort.The strong assured Maisie Dobbs is back after several books where she was uncertain and doubting her abilities in stranger than usual surroundings. She has come in from the wilderness of her grief, revitalized and ready to go. Welcome back Maisie!
    • 4/5
      It’s 1939 just before the WWII and Maisie has re-opened her detective agency and has Billy and Sandra working for her. A friend from Belgium comes to her and wants her to look into the death of a Belgium immigrant who was murdered and the police seemed to have exhausted their search for the perpetrators. Maisie and Priscilla’s friendship is still strong and they decide to help with the war effort. London is a dreary place with everyone walking around with gas-masks and the children have been evacuated from London and the schools have been taken over as barracks by the army.
    • 5/5
      Maisie Dobbs is back working as a detective in England after her spying adventure in her last book … thank goodness! I was extremely disappointed in the last two books (one in the series, one stand-alone) by Ms. Winspear and hoped she would get back to business in this book. She did.It’s 1939. Maisie takes on a case of murder, of two men who were Belgian refugees in the Great War. She believes that both of them were known to each other and to their murderer and she sets out to prove it. More murders turn up and it’s critical that Maisie finds evidence and stops the killer.Our heroine also takes on the cases of 1) a little English girl who doesn’t speak and whose family is missing and 2) a disabled WWI veteran who’s both blind and legless. Maisie calls on her own circle of friends to help her help them. These cases are more personal. This is vintage Jacqueline Winspear – a real page turner.

    Book preview

    In This Grave Hour - Jacqueline Winspear

    Prologue

    London, Sunday, September 3rd, 1939

    Maisie Dobbs left her garden flat in Holland Park, taking care to lock the door to her private entrance as she departed. She carried no handbag, no money, but had drawn a cardigan around her shoulders and carried a rolled umbrella, just in case. There had been a run of hot summer days punctuated by intermittent storms and pouring rain, leaving the air thick and clammy with the promise of more changeable weather, as clouds of luminous white and thunderous graphite lumbered across the sky above. They reminded Maisie of elephants on the march across a parched plain, and in that moment she wished she were far away in a place where such beasts roamed.

    Her journey was short—just a five-minute walk along a leafy street towards a Georgian mansion of several stories: the home of her oldest friend, Priscilla Partridge, along with her husband, Douglas, and their three sons. The youngest, Tarquin, had been sent to Maisie’s flat earlier with a message for her to hurry, so they could listen to the wireless together—as family, united, at the worst of times. For without doubt, Maisie was considered family as far as Priscilla, her husband, and their boys were concerned.

    Despite the warmth of the day, Maisie felt chilled in her light summer dress. She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her cardigan as she walked, transferring the umbrella from one hand to the other, conscious of every movement.

    Where was she the last time? Had she been so young, so distracted by her new life at Girton College, that she could not remember where she was and what she had been doing when the news came? She stopped for a moment. It had been another long, hot summer then—the perfect English summer, they’d said—and she wondered if, indeed, weather had something to do with the outcome, pressing down on people, firing the tempers of powerful men until they reached a point of no return, spilling over to upend the world.

    The mansion’s front door was open before she set foot on the bottom step.

    Tante Maisie, come, you’ll miss it. Thomas, now eighteen years of age, stood tall, his hair just a shade lighter than his mother’s coppery brown. He was smiling as he beckoned Maisie to hurry, then held out his hand to take hers. The wireless is on in the drawing room, and everyone’s waiting.

    Maisie nodded. It seemed to her that each day Priscilla’s boys gained inches in height and increased their already boundless energy. And though he was the eldest, Thomas could still engage in rambunctious play with his brothers. They’d always reminded Maisie of a basket of puppies on those occasions when she saw them in the garden, teasing one another, tugging on each other’s hair or the scruff of the neck. But Thomas was also a man. Today, of all days, his passing boyhood filled her with dread.

    Maisie—come on! Priscilla hurried into the entrance hall, brandishing a cigarette in a long holder. She reached out and linked her arm through Maisie’s. Let’s get settled.

    As they stepped into the drawing room, Douglas Partridge managed a brief smile and a nod as he approached. Maisie. Good, you’re here. He drew back after touching his cheek to hers, and held her gaze for a second. Each saw the pain in the other, and the effort to press back the past. She nodded her understanding. Memories seemed to collide with the present as they joined Priscilla and the boys, along with the household staff—a cook, housekeeper, and Elinor, the family’s long-serving nanny, no longer needed but much loved.

    I thought we should all be together, said Priscilla as the housekeeper moved to pour more tea. The wireless crackled, and the company grew silent. Priscilla shook her head—no, no more tea—and motioned for the housekeeper to take a seat, but she remained standing, a hand on the table as if to keep herself steady.

    Douglas reached towards the set to adjust the volume.

    Here we go, he said.

    Maisie noticed Douglas glance at his watch—he wore it on his right wrist, given the loss of his left arm during the Great War—and was aware that she and Priscilla had cast their eyes towards the clock on the mantelpiece at exactly the same moment, and Timothy had leaned across, lifted his older brother’s wrist and looked at the dial on his watch, touching it as if to embed the moment in his memory. It was eleven-fourteen on the morning of September 3rd, 1939.

    The wireless crackled again: static signaling the coming storms. At a quarter past eleven, the voice they had gathered to hear—the clipped tones of Neville Chamberlain, the Prime Minister—shattered their now silent waiting.

    This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by 11 o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.

    I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.

    As the speech continued, all present stared at the wireless as though it held the image of a person. Maisie felt numb. It was as if the cold, slick air of France had remained with her since the war—when, she wondered, would they begin referring to it as the last war?—and now the terrible, biting chill was seeping out from its place of seclusion deep in her bones. She glanced at Priscilla, and saw her friend staring at her sons, each one in turn as if she feared she might forget their faces. And she knew the deep ache of loss was allowing Priscilla no quarter—the dragon of memory that war had left in its wake; a slumbering giant stretching into the present, starting anew to breathe fire again. Priscilla’s three brothers had perished between the years 1914 and 1918.

    Now may God bless you all. May He defend the right. It is the evil things that we shall be fighting against—brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution—and against them I am certain that the right will prevail.

    Douglas, who had remained standing throughout the speech, leaned forward to switch off the wireless.

    Priscilla touched the housekeeper on the shoulder and asked for a pot of coffee to be brought to the drawing room. The cook had already returned to the kitchen, reaching for her handkerchief and dabbing her eyes as she closed the door behind her. Elinor had followed with a muttered explanation that she had to see to something; no one heard what it was that had to be seen to.

    Papa . . . what do you think of—

    Father, Mother, I think I should—

    Maman, shall we—

    The boys spoke at once, but fell silent when Douglas raised his hand. It’s time we men went for an invigorating, excitement-reducing walk around the park just in case the day spoils and the rain really comes down. Come on. And with that, all three of Priscilla’s sons left the room, ushered away by their father, who held up his cane as if it were the wing of a hen chivvying along her chicks.

    Silence seemed to bear down on the room as the door closed.

    Priscilla’s eyes were wide, red-rimmed. I’m not going to lose my sons, Maisie. If I have to chop off their fingers to render them physically unacceptable to the fighting force, I will do so.

    No, you won’t, Pris. Maisie came to her feet and put an arm around her friend, who was seated next to the wireless. She felt Priscilla lean in to her waist as she stood beside her. You wouldn’t harm a single hair on their heads.

    We came through it, didn’t we, Maisie? said Priscilla. We might not have been unblemished on the other side, but we came through.

    And we shall again, said Maisie. We’re made of strong fabric, all of us.

    Priscilla nodded, pulling a handkerchief from her cuff and dabbing her eyes. We Everndens—and never let it be forgotten that in my bones I am an Evernden—are better than the Herr-bloody-Hitlers of this world. I’d chase him down myself to protect my boys.

    You’re one of the strongest, Priscilla—and remember, Douglas is worried sick too. You’re a devoted family. Hold tight.

    We’re all going to have to hold tight, aren’t we?

    Maisie was about to speak again when there was a gentle knock at the door, as if someone had rubbed a knuckle against the wood rather than rapping upon it.

    Yes? invited Priscilla.

    The housekeeper entered and announced that there was a telephone call for Maisie, though she referred to her by her title, which was somewhat grander than plain Miss Dobbs.

    Maisie gave a half smile. Who on earth knows I’m here? she asked, without expecting an answer.

    Well, your father would make a pretty good guess and come up with our house, if you weren’t at home. I daresay they’ve been listening to the wireless too, and Brenda would have wanted him to call. You’ll probably hear from Lady Rowan soon too.

    Oh, dear, said Maisie as she stepped towards the door. I do hope Dad’s all right.

    In the hall, she picked up the telephone receiver, which was resting on a marble-topped table decorated with a vase of blue hydrangeas.

    Hello. This is Maisie Dobbs. Who’s speaking, please?

    Maisie, Francesca Thomas here.

    Maisie put her hand across the mouthpiece and looked around. She was alone. Dr. Thomas, what on earth is going on? How do you know this number? Or that I would be here?

    Please return to your flat, if you don’t mind. I have some urgent business to discuss with you.

    Maisie felt a second’s imbalance, as if she had knelt down to retrieve something from the floor, and had come to her feet too quickly. What was the urgent business that this woman—someone in whose presence she had always felt unsettled—wanted to discuss on a Sunday, and in the wake of the prime minister’s broadcast to the nation?

    Francesca Thomas had spent almost her entire adult life working in the shadows. In the Great War she had become a member of La Dame Blanche, the Belgian resistance movement comprised almost entirely of girls and women who had taken up the work of their menfolk when they went to war. Maisie knew that with her British and Belgian background, Thomas was now working for the Secret Service.

    Dr. Thomas, I am not interested. Working with the— She looked around again and lowered her voice. Working with your department is not my bailiwick. I am not cut from that sort of cloth. I told Mr. Huntley, quite clearly, no more of those assignments. I am a psychologist and an investigator—that is my domain.

    Then you are just the person I need.

    What do you mean?

    Murder, Maisie. And I need you to prevent it happening again. And again.

    Where are you?

    In your flat. I took the liberty—I hope you don’t mind.

    Chapter 1

    As Maisie hurried from Priscilla’s house, fuming that Francesca Thomas had violated her privacy by breaking into her flat—a criminal act, no less—an angry, deep-throated mechanical baying seemed to fill the air around her. It began slowly, gaining momentum until it reached full cry. A woman in a neighboring house rushed into the front garden to pull her children back indoors. A man and woman walking a dog broke into a run, gaining cover in the lee of a wall. There were few people out on this Sunday morning—indeed, many had remained indoors to listen to the wireless—but those on the street began to move as quickly as they could. Maisie watched as each person reached what they thought would be a place of safety—running towards the sandbagged underground station, to their homes, or even into a stranger’s doorway. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up into the sky. Nothing more threatening than intermittent clouds. No bombers, no Luftwaffe flying overhead. It was just a test. A test of the air-raid sirens situated across London. She looked at her watch. Twenty to twelve now. People began to emerge from their hiding places, having realized there were no metal-clad birds of prey ready to swoop down on life across the city. It was nothing more than practice—as if they needed practice for war.

    Taking the path at the side of the property, Maisie approached her flat by the garden entrance. Dr. Francesca Thomas was seated on a wicker chair set on the lawn. She was smoking a cigarette, flicking ash onto the grass at her feet. The French doors were open to the warmth of the day, and Thomas leaned back as if to allow a beam of sunlight to bathe her face. Maisie studied her for a few seconds. Thomas was a tall woman, well dressed in a matching costume of skirt and jacket, the collar of a silk blouse just visible and the customary scarf tied around her neck, the ends poked into the V of the blouse, as a man might tie a cravat. The scarf was scarlet, and Maisie suspected that if it were opened up and laid flat, a pattern of roses would be revealed. Her thick hair, now threaded with gray, was cut above the shoulder and brushed away from her face. It was a strong face, thought Maisie, with defined black eyebrows, deep-set eyes, and pale skin. She wore a little rouge on her cheeks, and lipstick that matched the scarf.

    Francesca Thomas did not look up as Maisie approached. Her eyes remained closed as she began to speak.

    Lovely garden you have here, Maisie. Quite the sun trap. Those hydrangeas are wonderful.

    Maisie sat down in the wicker chair next to her visitor. Dr. Thomas—Francesca—you didn’t come here to talk to me about the hydrangeas. So, shall we go inside and you can tell me what was so important that you had to break into my house and hunt me down.

    Thomas shielded her eyes with her hand. Yes, let’s go in.

    Maisie came to her feet and extended her hand, indicating that Thomas should enter the flat first. She paused briefly to look at the French doors. They appeared untouched, though no key had been used to open them.

    I won’t ask how you broke in, Francesca—but I will get all my locks changed now.

    Never mind—most people wouldn’t have been able to break into the flat. I’m just a bit more experienced. Now then, let’s get down to business.

    The doors to the garden remained open. Francesca Thomas made herself comfortable on the plump chintz-covered sofa set perpendicular to the fireplace, while Maisie took a seat on the armchair facing her.

    Maisie, Thomas began, you will remember that during the last war many, many refugees from Belgium flooded into Britain.

    Maisie nodded. How could she forget? Over a quarter of a million people had entered the country, fleeing the approaching German army, the terror of bombing and occupation. Most had lost everything except the clothes they stood up in—homes, loved ones, neighbors, and their way of life—everything they owned left behind in the struggle.

    At one point, over sixteen thousand people were landing in the coastal ports every single day, Thomas continued. From Hull to Harwich, and on down to Folkestone. It went on for months.

    And yet after the war, they left so little behind, said Maisie. When they left, they might never have been here in England—isn’t that true?

    Yes. They were taken in, and in some areas there were even new towns built to house them—they had their shops, their currency. And after the Armistice, Britain wanted the refugees out, and their own boys home.

    And I am sure the Belgian people had a desire to return to their country too.

    Of course they did. They wanted to start again, to rebuild their communities and their lives.

    But some stayed, said Maisie.

    Yes, some stayed. Thomas nodded, staring into the garden.

    Maisie noticed that Francesca Thomas had not said we when referring to the Belgians, and she wondered how the woman felt now about the heritage she had claimed during the war. In truth she was as much British as she was Belgian. Maisie wondered if in serving the latter she had mined a strength she had not known before, just as Maisie had herself discovered more about her own character in wartime. She rubbed a hand across her forehead, a gesture that made Thomas look up, and resume speaking.

    There are estimates that up to seven or eight thousand remained after the war—they had integrated into life here, had married locally, taken on jobs, changed their names if it suited them. They didn’t stand out, so there was an . . . an integration, I suppose you could say. Thomas gave a wry smile.

    But life is not easy for any refugee, said Maisie.

    Indeed. They went from being welcomed as the representatives of ‘poor little Belgium’ to their hosts wondering when they would be leaving—and often quite vocal about it. And although there were those villages set up, they were not places of comfort or acceptance in the longer term. But as I said—most refugees went home following the war.

    Tell me what all this has to do with me, and how you believe I can help you?

    Thomas nodded. Forgive me, Maisie—I am very tired. There has been much to do in my world, as I am sure you might understand. I begin to speak about the war, and a wash of fatigue seems to drain me.

    Maisie leaned forward. Such candor was not something she had experienced in her dealings with Thomas. She remembered training with her last year, before her assignment in Munich. Thomas had drilled her until she thought she might scream No more!—but the woman had done what she set out to do, which was to make sure Maisie had the tools to ensure her own safety, and that of the man she had been tasked with bringing out of Munich under the noses of the Nazis. Now it was as if this new war was already winning the battle of bringing Thomas down.

    I want you to do a job of work for me, Maisie. This is what has happened. About a month ago, on August the fourth, a man named Frederick Addens was found dead close to St. Pancras Station. He had been shot—point-blank—through the back of the head. The position in which he was found, together with the postmortem, suggested that he was made to kneel down, hands behind his head, and then he was executed.

    So he could well have seen his killer, said Maisie. It has all the hallmarks of a professional assassination.

    I suspect that is the case.

    Tell me about Addens, said Maisie.

    Thirty-eight years of age. He worked for the railway as an engineer at the station. He was married to an English woman, and they have two children, both adults now and working. The daughter is a junior librarian—she’s eighteen years of age, and the son—who’s almost twenty—has now, I am informed, joined the army.

    Maisie nodded. What does Scotland Yard say?

    Nothing. War might have been declared today, but it broke out a long time ago, as you know. Scotland Yard has its hands full—a country on the move provides a lot of work for the police.

    But they are investigating, of course.

    Yes, Maisie, they are investigating. But the detective in charge says that it is not a priority at the moment—it’s what they call an open-and-shut case because they maintain it was a theft and there were no witnesses, therefore not much to go on—apparently there was no money on Addens when his body was discovered, and no wallet was found among his belongings at the station. And according to Scotland Yard, there are not enough men on the ground to delve into the investigation.

    What’s his name? asked Maisie.

    Caldwell. Do you know him?

    Yes. I know him—though we’ve not crossed paths in a few years. Maisie paused. What about Huntley’s department, or the Foreign Office? Surely they must be interested in the outcome of this one.

    Chinese walls and too much to do—you know how it is, Maisie. Francesca Thomas came to her feet and stood by the door, her gaze directed towards the garden. I want you to investigate for me. I trust you. I trust you to keep a calm head, to be diligent in your work, and to come up with some answers.

    I don’t do this kind of work for nothing, Dr. Thomas. Maisie stepped towards the bureau in the corner, took a sheet of paper and pen, and wrote down a series of numbers. She handed it to Thomas. These are my fees, plus I will give you a chit to account for costs incurred along the way.

    Thomas looked at the paper, folded it, and put it in her pocket. I will issue you with an advance via messenger tomorrow, and I will also send you addresses, employment details, and any other information I have to hand on Addens. I take it you will start immediately.

    Of course. Maisie allowed a few seconds to pass. Dr. Thomas—Francesca— She spoke the woman’s name in a quiet voice, so that when Thomas turned it was to look straight into Maisie’s eyes. Francesca, are you telling me everything?

    A Belgian refugee—one of my countrymen—who made England his home and lived in peace here, is dead. The manner of his death begs many questions, and I want to know who killed him. That is the nub of the matter.

    Maisie nodded. I will expect your messenger tomorrow—at my office in Fitzroy Square.

    Francesca Thomas picked up the clutch bag she had set upon the sofa. Thank you, Maisie. I knew I could depend upon you. She left by the French doors; seconds later Maisie heard the gate at the side of the house clang shut.

    She stepped into the walled garden. Beyond the brick terrace and lawn, she’d planted a perennial border to provide color from spring to autumn. The hydrangeas admired by Thomas had grown tall and covered the walls, their color reflected in an abundance of Michaelmas daisies. She strolled the perimeter of the garden, deadheading the last of the season’s roses as she went. This was ground she knew well—investigating a death in suspicious circumstances was home turf. But two elements to her brief bothered her. The first was the matter of a designed execution. Such acts were often planned when the perpetrator considered the victim to have committed an unpunished crime—and if not a crime, then an error for which forgiveness could not be bestowed. Or perhaps the man with the bullet in his skull had seen something he was not meant to see. And in those cases, the person who carried out the assassination might not be the person harboring a grudge.

    The second element that gave Maisie pause was that she believed Thomas might not have been as forthcoming as she could have been. In fact, she might have lied when she had told Maisie there was nothing more to tell. I want to know who killed him, that is the nub of the matter. The words seemed to echo in Maisie’s mind. Indeed, she had a distinct feeling that there was much more to the nub of the matter—after all, during the telephone call which Maisie had taken at Priscilla’s house, Thomas had suggested that murder might happen again. And again.

    Well, the balloon has well and truly gone up now, hasn’t it? Billy Beale lifted the strap attached to a box containing his gas mask over his head and placed it on the table. Morning, miss. Sorry I’m a bit late— He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. More than a bit, this morning. The trains were all over the place. Army on the move, that’s what it is—seen it all before, more’s the pity."

    Maisie had been standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a cup of hot tea in her hand, when her assistant entered. She walked across to his desk. Not to worry—I’ve not been here long myself, only enough time to make a cup of tea. Sandra’s late too.

    At that moment the door opened and Sandra Pickering came into the office, placing her handbag, a narrow document case, and her gas mask on her desk.

    I’m so sorry—you would never believe—

    We’ve been in ages, Sandra—what kept you? asked Billy, a glint in his eye.

    Take no notice of him, said Maisie. We’ve all had the same trouble this morning. There’s the army mobilization, and there are still a good number of children being evacuated.

    Sandra shook her head. I’ve had enough of this already—I forget my gas mask half the time, and when you walk down the road there’s those big barrage balloons overhead, and you feel as if it’s the end of the world. Oh, and since the announcement yesterday, they’re adding to the sandbags around the Tube stations too. And they’ve been sandbagged for months now, all ready for this.

    Those balloons certainly block out the sun, said Maisie. She looked at Sandra and Billy in turn. Get yourselves some tea—she nodded towards a tray set upon a low table close to the windows overlooking Fitzroy Square—and then join me in my office. I want to go over work in hand, and we’ve a new case. An important one too.

    A murder, by any chance? asked Billy.

    Maisie nodded as she stepped across the threshold into her office. Oh yes, Billy—it’s a murder.

    Good—something to take my mind off all this war business.

    When Maisie Dobbs, psychologist and investigator, moved into the first-floor office in Fitzroy Square almost ten years earlier, it had comprised one large room, entered via a door situated to the right at the top of the broad staircase that swept up from the main entrance. The Georgian mansion had originally been home to a family of some wealth, but the conversion of the property to offices on the ground and first floors, with flats above, had taken place some decades earlier, as industry boomed during the reign of Queen Victoria. Billy’s desk had been situated to the right upon entering the office, with Maisie’s alongside the ornate fireplace—though a temperamental gas fire had long since replaced coals. When Sandra began her employment with Maisie to assist with administration of the business, another desk had been squeezed in close to the door.

    A series of events and a crisis of confidence had led Maisie to relinquish her business in 1933. Billy and Sandra had found alternative employment, and Maisie traveled overseas. When she returned to England in late 1937, it was as a widow, a woman who had lost the child she was carrying on the very day her husband was killed in a flying accident in Canada. That he was testing a new fighter aircraft was known by only a few—as far as the press was concerned, Viscount James Compton was an aviator, a wealthy but boyish man indulging his love of flight, looking down at the earth.

    Drawn back to her work as an investigator, Maisie discovered the former office in Fitzroy Square was once more available for lease—but it was not quite the same office. In the intervening years a considerable amount of renovation had been carried out on the instructions of the interim tenant. There were now two rooms—a concertina door dividing the front room from an adjacent room had been installed, so when a visitor entered, Billy’s desk was still to the right of the door, and Sandra’s situated where Maisie’s desk had once been positioned. But to the left, a second spacious room—the office of a solicitor during her first tenancy—was now Maisie’s domain, with the doors drawn back unless privacy was required. Today the doors were wide open. Maisie’s desk was placed to the left of the room, with a long trestle-type table alongside the back window, overlooking a yard where someone—a ground-floor tenant, perhaps—had cleared away a mound of rubbish and was endeavoring to grow all manner of plants in a variety of terra-cotta pots.

    As they stepped into Maisie’s office, Billy took a roll of plain wallpaper from a basket in the corner—a housepainter friend of Billy’s passed on end-of-roll remnants—and pinned a length of about four feet onto the table. Maisie pulled a jar of colored crayons towards her and placed a folder on the table in front of her chair, opening it to a page of notes.

    ‘Frederick Addens, age thirty-eight, a refugee from Belgium during the war.’ She sighed. The last war, I suppose I should say. She paused. He was found dead in a position indicating some sort of ritual assassination—though according to information given to our client by the police, they suspect the murder is a random killing motivated by theft. She pushed a sheet of paper towards Billy, who leaned in so that Sandra could read at the same time. As you can see, he was a railway engineer, working at St. Pancras Station.

    One of them blokes you see diving onto the lines when the train comes in, said Billy, his finger on a line of typing. Blimey, I’ve always thought that was a rotten job, down there where the rats run, all that oil, and that loco must be blimmin’ hot when it’s just reached the buffers. I tell you, I always wondered what would happen if the train started rolling and they hadn’t given the engineer time to get back onto the platform. He shook his head.

    I think the guard checks, Billy, said Sandra.

    What about our friends at Scotland Yard, miss? asked Billy. What have they been doing about the case?

    They’ve pretty full hands at the moment—and though our client does not say as much, I suspect she believes there is an attitude of ‘victim not born here, so investigation can wait’ on the part of the police. That might not have been my conclusion, but the fact remains that any investigation is not moving at a pace considered satisfactory by the client, so she has turned to me.

    She? asked Sandra.

    Maisie slid another sheet of paper towards Billy and Sandra. I’ve worked with Dr. Francesca Thomas in the past—she is a formidable woman, and trustworthy in every regard.

    Where do we start?

    "The first element of the investigation to underline is that we must move with utmost

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