A murder in an antiques shop sends a woman back to her long-abandoned career as an investigator.
Freya Lockwood’s life in London has already been turned upside down—her beloved only child has left for college in the U.S., and her ex-husband is making her sell their house. Then comes the news that her former mentor, Arthur Crockleford, has died under mysterious circumstances in his antiques shop in the town where Freya grew up. He had trained her to follow his footsteps as an antique hunter: a detective who works for private owners or insurance companies to recover stolen antiques. The two have been estranged for 20 years, though, ever since her career ended in disaster. But Freya, who was orphaned young, was raised by her glamorous Aunt Carole, and Arthur and Carole were best friends. So Freya goes home to Little Meddington, and soon she and Carole find that Arthur has left a welter of clues indicating that he was murdered—and that Freya needs to hunt down not only his killer but an enigmatic object that will explain what really happened two decades before. They’re off to a weekend retreat for antiques and antiquities collectors at a decaying mansion that was the home of a certain Lord Metcalf, an associate of Arthur’s who also died recently. There they meet a contentious group that practically overflows with suspects who might have killed Arthur—and might be involved in the criminal side of the antiques world. Freya’s instinct for investigation comes back to life, but she and Carole are clearly in danger. The book’s setting offers interesting details about the antiques trade, but most of the characters are one-dimensional. And the overstuffed plot and frequent exposition drag down the pacing—at one point, a character says, “Shall we recap?” And does so, for several pages.
A promising mystery setup gets bogged down in an overcomplicated plot.