The dull little town of Brayne, situated somewhere between London and Windsor, is celebrating its new status as a borough. The Council has decided to stage an historical pageant featuring Shakespeare's Falstaff and two English kings - Henry VIII and Edward III. Then the actors taking these parts are murdered.
Born in Cowley, Oxford, in 1901, Gladys Maude Winifred Mitchell was the daughter of market gardener James Mitchell, and his wife, Annie.
She was educated at Rothschild School, Brentford and Green School, Isleworth, before attending Goldsmiths College and University College, London from 1919-1921.
She taught English, history and games at St Paul's School, Brentford, from 1921-26, and at St Anne's Senior Girls School, Ealing until 1939.
She earned an external diploma in European history from University College in 1926, beginning to write her novels at this point. Mitchell went on to teach at a number of other schools, including the Brentford Senior Girls School (1941-50), and the Matthew Arnold School, Staines (1953-61). She retired to Corfe Mullen, Dorset in 1961, where she lived until her death in 1983.
Although primarily remembered for her mystery novels, and for her detective creation, Mrs. Bradley, who featured in 66 of her novels, Mitchell also published ten children's books under her own name, historical fiction under the pseudonym Stephen Hockaby, and more detective fiction under the pseudonym Malcolm Torrie. She also wrote a great many short stories, all of which were first published in the Evening Standard.
She was awarded the Crime Writers' Association Silver Dagger Award in 1976.
Definitely not one of Gladys's better books. In fact I thought this one very poor. Not enough of Mrs Bradley and far too much of Laura and Kitty. The witty banter between these two became very tiresome. For me, the whole success of Gladys's books rests upon the creation of the marvelous character of Mrs Bradley and to sideline her to occasional appearances considerably diminishes the attraction.
The plot was disjointed and the ending disappointing.
This novel shows how a good writer can occasionally turn out a disappointing novel, with grace and a deft elegance of style. The disappointment was perhaps all on my side, because other books by Mitchell are downright brilliant in plot construction and character development. Those clever clues and bright chatter gave the reader a fair chance to work out the puzzle, but this book simply didn't click for me.
This book felt choppy, and very un-mrs. bradley style. Like she had written it for some other use and just plugged in her main characters to make it a Bradley murder mystery. idk. weird.