Leaving Everything Most Loved (Maisie Dobbs)
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In Leaving Everything Most Loved by New York Times bestselling author Jacqueline Winspear, Maisie Dobbs investigates the murder of Indian immigrants in London.
The year is 1933. Maisie Dobbs is contacted by an Indian gentleman who has come to England in the hopes of finding out who killed his sister two months ago. Scotland Yard failed to make any arrest in the case, and there is reason to believe they failed to conduct a thorough investigation. The case becomes even more challenging when another Indian woman is murdered just hours before a scheduled interview. Meanwhile, unfinished business from a previous case becomes a distraction, as does a new development in Maisie's personal life.
Bringing a crucial chapter in the life and times of Maisie Dobbs to a close, Leaving Everything Most Loved marks a pivotal moment in this outstanding mystery series.
ears envelope-flapped in anticipation of something unusual in the air. “Did you think your old jacket, your corduroy trousers, and a red neckerchief would make Mrs. Bromley swoon?” said Maisie. “Now then, before you start, my Maisie, come and help me with this tie.” Maisie stood before her father, took the two ends of the tie, then pulled one longer than the other. Her father spoke again as she lifted his chin and began to work to achieve the perfect knot. “I won’t forget your
testing of agile aircraft suited to combat in the air, rather than in the destruction of what lay below—that Maisie saw a deep respect and regard in his eyes, a loyalty and commitment that would take him across an ocean to be of service. “Since Churchill’s speech in August, about Germany’s rearmament, John has been like a man possessed,” said James. “Elaine and Johnny—his son—will also be flying in Canada, so heaven knows when he thinks he will be able to find a suitor for his daughter. But
box. “Sandra, I think you have a point, but at the same time, I have worked with people who have psychiatric illnesses, and it’s not always as clear cut as that. You and I have been fortunate, we have been able—to a point—to get on with things. We know that you throw your line out to a rock somewhere, and pull yourself through the oncoming tide to the next landing place. Someone suffering as Doreen has doesn’t have the strength to do that, so she can only thrash around in the current, trying to
Usha concealed things.” She turned to Sandra. “Usha saved a fair amount of money that she hid in this room—I discovered it, almost by accident. I don’t know exactly how she earned that money, but I suspect she had a talent—skill, gift, call it what you like—for easing pain, by touch and by blending various herbs and spices. I remember Dr. Elsbeth Masters—you remember her, she was the one who treated Doreen; I worked with her once, years ago—well, she was brought up in Africa, and she once told me
hand. The image of bound elephant hair kept coming to mind. She did not care for the clumsy knotting of an animal’s hair, and she wondered if that was a prejudice, a valuable clue, or intuition. But she felt the esteemed reverend might worship more gods than just the One. Maisie parked the car across the road from the Paiges’ home, went to the front door, and knocked. Soon heavy footsteps could be heard approaching; it was Mr. Paige who answered. “Oh, not you again.” “Mr. Paige, I am