When a body turns up at a glamorous séance, Mabel Canning’s sleuthing skills are put to the test. Because it appears the victim died twice…

London, 1921: As a winter wind blows through the streets of London, Mabel Canning is hired by the Useful Women’s Agency to attend a séance at the home of famous medium Madame Pushkana. But when Mabel hears a choking noise and a loud thud, she quickly turns on the lights to find herself at the scene of a murder.

The victim is none other than Stamford Plomley, whose widow arranged the séance after he died in a fire eight months ago. How did he come back from the dead without a scorch mark on him? And could one of their assembled party of gentlewomen have killed him… again?

When Scotland Yard arrive, the police try to stop Mabel from interfering. But having just formed the London Ladies’ Murder Club, Mabel isn’t going anywhere. And with the help of former detective Park Winstone, she begins to piece together what really happened at the ghostly gathering.

But when Mabel receives a threatening letter warning her to stay away from the case, she realises the murderer may have another victim in mind. With time running out, will she hit a dead end? Or can she keep herself from becoming the next one to be sent to an early grave?

 

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

 

Tollerton gave her one of those policeman looks in which he searched for an answer to a question that wasn’t asked.

Nervous or excited. I suppose they’re much of a muchness.

Mabel saw the importance of having compassionate friends you could trust who knew other people who had friends. The circle widened from there, but it started here in her flat with these three friends whose value was greater than gold.

Mr Trenchard is never late… He makes his own time.

 

My Review:

 

I am enjoying this cleverly cobbled series, the uniquely contrived characters were sublimely nuanced and deviously detailed with perceptive observations that just weren’t quite complete and kept me ever curious for more. The little pea in my brain was rattling throughout while devising and casting aside multiple theories on “who done it.” And even as jaded as I am, I would have never reached the actual conclusion this wily scribbler had concocted.