Death in the Mayfair Hotel (A Cressida Fawcett Mystery)
Christmas Eve, 1925—glittering snowflakes envelop the world in pristine white brilliance; diamonds twinkle from the women’s décolletage at the swanky Mayfair Hotel ball; new beau, George gets down on one knee to Lady Dorothy (Dotty) Chatterton, about to utter long-anticipated words; and the Honourable Cressida Fawcett and Dotty’s brother, Alfred, are surreptitiously watching from the sidelines. Then Dotty’s horrified scream erupts as she sees the body in the fountain — Lady Victoria Beaumont, who’d been dancing with abandon just moments before, now stone-cold dead.
Chester sets the scene with intricate details of time, place and character, as she does so well in this series. DCI Andrews and Sergeant Kirby arrive tout de suite, but Cressy has daddy-connections with top police brass, and leeway to investigate—a ballroom stuffed with high-society suspects and just a few hours ´til ‘carriages at midnight’, when wild horses won’t be able to stop the toffs from leaving. Cressy’s eye for detail and ability to blend with nobility prove most handy. Best friend Dotty is particularly sage, after reading dozens of crime novels, and as she wisely intones, it’s almost always the husband. But here, the husband is forty years older than his dead wife, and doesn’t look capable of anything. So, it’s time to put on thinking caps and cogitate on a rumoured infidelity, an heir, a Harley Street gynecologist, an inheritance, and a second murder by glass-icicle Christmas ornament.
Chester’s trademark repartee is always charming; witty asides and a little wry commentary on blue-blood mores slip in to keep it all light and fun. This is Cressy’s sixth adventure into murder, and she and her pug Ruby (whose sojourn with a noble corgi is about to produce ‘porgies and cogs’), have the spunk for lots more. And what about that thoroughly romantic kiss from Alfred! Never straightforward; always a delight!
