India, 1919. Desperate for a fresh start, Captain Sam Wyndham arrives to take up an important post in Calcutta’s police force.
He is soon called to the scene of a horrifying murder. The victim was a senior official, and a note left in his mouth warns the British to leave India – or else.
With the stability of the Empire under threat, Wyndham and Sergeant ‘Surrender-not’ Banerjee must solve the case quickly. But there are some who will do anything to stop them…
I have had all of this series sat on my bookshelves for a few years. There is part of me that is kicking myself for waiting so long but I also have a feeling of relief. I have another three books to read whilst I wait for book five that is due to be published next year.
I enjoy historical crime but the majority of what I read is set in England. This is the first that I have read that takes place in India and I was fascinated by the culture and the people but horrified by the attitude of some of the British. Some of it made me cringe a little but I accept that it is a true description of what life was like when you know what the British were capable of in other countries.
Sam Wyndham was definitely a damaged character. Bad memories of the war and widowed after his wife died from flu he also has an addiction that could destroy his career. His colleague, Sargent Banerjee, known throughout as Surrender-not, is one I adored. I loved the author’s description of him. His acceptance of his nickname, because of a superior officers inability to pronounce his proper name, his humour and loyalty was everything I like in a character. .
This is definitely a book I would like to read again, armed with a little more knowledge about what it was like in India at this time. My knowledge all comes from a TV shows that I watched years ago. It’s a fantastic crime novel and a valuable history lesson
Calcutta police detective Captain Sam Wyndham and his quick-witted Indian Sergeant, Surrender-not Banerjee, are back for another rip-roaring adventure set in 1920s India.
1905, London. As a young constable, Sam Wyndham is on his usual East London beat when he comes across an old flame, Bessie Drummond, attacked in the streets. The next day, when Bessie is found brutally beaten in her own room, locked from the inside, Wyndham promises to get to the bottom of her murder. But the case will cost the young constable more than he ever imagined.
1922, India. Leaving Calcutta, Captain Sam Wyndham heads for the hills of Assam, to the ashram of a sainted monk where he hopes to conquer his opium addiction. But when he arrives, he sees a ghost from his life in London – a man thought to be long dead, a man Wyndham hoped he would never see again.
Wyndham knows he must call his friend and colleague Sergeant Banerjee for help. He is certain this figure from his past isn’t here by coincidence. He is here for revenge . . .
Mainly with the women patients, naturally, but also in the kitchens at times. She’s a real interest in things: from the running of the ashram to the preparation of the herbal cures.’
‘Careful,’ I said. ‘Next thing you know you’ll have her converting to Hinduism and I’m not sure her husband would approve.’
Shankar’s expression darkened. ‘No fear. She’s shown no interest in that.’
Through the window behind him, I saw Emily Carter cross the courtyard to where a large black car stood waiting. At her approach, a chauffeur exited the car with alacrity and quickly opened the rear door. She graced him with a smile then she lowered her head and disappeared inside. The driver closed the door behind her, and made his way to his own seat. The engine growled to life and within seconds the car was heading for the ashram gates, throwing a halo of dust skywards in its wake.
With the memory of Mrs Carter lingering pleasantly in my head, and with time to spare before lunch, I left Brother Shankar and went off in search of the ashram library. The room was larger than I’d expected, though what expectations I should have of an ashram library are still unclear to me. Three walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves of religious texts. There was something for everyone, assuming you liked your literature with a theological bent, from thick, hide-bound, hand-printed tomes with covers decorated with fine filigree detailing, to the flimsy, mass-produced, badly bound paperbacks that every book-wallah in Calcutta’s College Street sold by the barrowload for a few annas each.
I wondered why Adler had suggested I come here. It was obvious I was no scholar of Sanskrit, and even if I had been interested in learning the Hindu holy texts, today was hardly the most auspicious occasion on which to start. Then I noticed that a few dusty shelves near the bottom of one wall contained a number of books in English, and to my joy, these weren’t even religious tomes.
I knelt down, scanned them quickly and smiled. Towards the end of one row was a title I recognised. I wiped the dust from the spine. The Four Just Men. It was a detective novel published back in 1905. I knew, because I’d bought it the week it had come out. It had been a bestseller, not because it was any good, but because the author, Edgar Wallace, had left out the last chapter. Instead he’d advertised in the Daily Mail, offering £250 for the correct solution to the crime. Of course Wallace, like most writers, overestimated his own intelligence. For a start, the solution wasn’t that hard to figure out – as a young beat copper in the East End of London at the time, I’d managed it and duly wrote in to the Mail. More importantly, Wallace forgot to state there would be only one winner, so anyone who wrote in with the right answer was entitled to the money. The upshot was that Wallace went bankrupt, and seventeen years on, I was still waiting for my £250.
I picked up the book and walked back to the dormitory, lay on my bunk, and to the hum of prayers and the twitter of birds, I opened the book. ‘If you leave the Plaza del Mina, go down the narrow street, where, from ten till four, the big flag of the United States Consulate hangs lazily . . .’
I closed the book and placed it on my chest. It was strange how 1905 kept cropping up. Since arriving in Assam, it seemed as though an unseen presence was directing my thoughts back to that year: the figure at Lumding station; the memories of Bessie Drummond; the compassion shown by the Jew, Adler; and now this book.
1905. The year I hadn’t been strong enough. I felt I was reading entrails, portents of something ominous. A religious man might have seen in them the hand of God or gods, and after all, here I was in an ashram dedicated to Kali the Destroyer. Was this all part of some supernatural reckoning? The past, they say, catches up with us all. Maybe it had finally caught up with me.
The morning after a terrible storm, a woman turns up in a remote Cornish village. She calls herself Charlie, but it’s a name she’s only had for a few days. She keeps herself to herself, reluctant to integrate with the locals. Because Charlie has a secret.
Charlie was in prison for providing a false alibi for a murderer. But Lee Fisher wasn’t a murderer to her; he was the man she loved. Convinced of his innocence, Charlie said she was with him the night a young woman was killed.
And now she has a chance to start again. But someone is watching her, waiting for her, wondering if she’s really paid the price for what she did….
With thanks to the publisher for the copy received. In an attempt to rebuild her life after being released from prison Steffi moves to Cornwall. She changes her name, because of the threats she received for her crime and just wants to move on. But someone is aware of who she really is and it doesn’t take long for everything to go wrong.
I really enjoyed this novel. There is only one narrator but it feels like two as you find out how Steffi ended up in prison and how she tried to rebuild her life as Charlie when she was released.
Even though they were the same person they felt completely different. Steffi’s relationship with her father and her ex boyfriend made me cringe. Not because of violence, but because of the control and the constant put downs. I had a lot of sympathy for her. As Charlie, she seemed more confident, despite initial shyness and had a lot of time for others.
The location settings are perfect. Remote, beautiful but dangerous with some fantastic local characters, Aubrey in particular was one I really liked.
A great read and I will be reading the author’s previous book Sticks And Stones soon.
An addictively suspenseful new novel set in the glamorous world of the New York Hamptons, about secrets that refuse to remain buried and consequences that cannot be escaped.
After a whirlwind romance, a young woman returns to the opulent, secluded mansion of her new fiancé Max Winter – a wealthy senator and recent widower – and a life of luxury she’s never known. But all is not as it appears at the Asherley estate. The house is steeped in the memory of Max’s beautiful first wife Rebekah, who haunts the young woman’s imagination and feeds her uncertainties, while his very alive teenage daughter Dani makes her life a living hell.
As the soon-to-be second Mrs. Winter grows more in love with Max, and more afraid of Dani, she is drawn deeper into the family’s dark secrets – the kind of secrets that could kill her, too.
The Winters is loosely based on Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier a book which I thought I had read but hadn’t. It takes place initially in the Caymans where the unnamed young woman who falls in love with Max Winter lives. Her life has been tough, orphaned and having a slightly abrasive employer she falls head over heels in love with Max and agrees to move to his home in New York with him. But she is unprepared for what she faces.
It doesn’t take her long to feel apprehensive. Memories of Rebekah are all over the house, photos are everywhere and all her possessions. I had a lot of sympathy for her, not knowing where she could go and, at first,having little to do. Max’s teenage daughter is very unfriendly, often rude and mostly out of control. But you do see a different side to her when she starts to show warmth towards her future step mother. The problem is you don’t know if she can be trusted. Or if anybody else can.
Even though I haven’t read Rebecca I do know what it about so had a good idea what to expect. But with the modern slant, mobile phones, social media and female independence it feels different. I liked the different setting, the way the future Mrs Winter is described without being given an identity. It’s very hard writing a review about a character who has no name.
The novel is clever, it must take a lot of courage to recreate a classic novel and make it modern-day thriller.