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Very nice tale about the unlikely friendship between a jinni (a creature of fire) and a golem (a woman made of clay). This is not some passionate romance but something that grows with time while they learn how the humans are affected by their presence. Very good in a One Thousand and One Nights way. Loved it.

As for Sophia’s engagement, there was no hint that it might be altered or postponed; her malady, it seemed, belonged in the category of things best left unmentioned, much like the uncle who’d died in a sanatorium and the cousin who’d married a Catholic.

“What use is logic, when it takes you so far in the wrong direction?”

I liked the old man **sniff

It's difficult to extricate which part of this book was written by Diana Norman and which by the daughter.
I've loved it. But. But... She has taken some names from history -I thought John was John Marshall, William was William M., Maud was Sibyl of Salisbury, etc- and there are details enough of their lives here to identify them. Almost. But this tale is completely different. In the end they are not. I am baffled.

‘Tha’s all very well,’ a man’s voice from the gatehouse was saying as Gwil limped up the quayside, ‘but iffen you don’t know the password—’
There was an interjection from somewhere along the ramparts. ‘Don’t think we got one, Ben.’
The gatehouse was put out. ‘Ain’t we? Still and all, we ain’t letting just anybody in. I got my orders.’

His Norman French was excellent but with a strong glottal catch that, to Maud’s ear, reduced it to the speech of a peasant. Nor did she recognize the long, carved lines of the man’s face and his intelligent, penetrating eyes as in any way individual; she saw only a tall figure that was repulsive and threatening, that hadn't shaved in three days; another Stang...

girl girl you are doomed :D

Sir Rollo pulled her back, but as she struggled against him there came a scream from the keep and Milburga was running towards them. ‘William, it’s William.’
‘What about him?’
‘Ain’t here. Not nowhere. And his fishing rod’s missing. Little bugger, I’ll flay his hide when I gets him.’

Yup "that" William :D

All these short stories anthologies always have 1 or 2 good ones to start with and 1 or 2 at the end and then all in the middle is so-so. I wish I could rate every story independently.

“I don’t think we can get it done (save the fat man and the day) during the commercials. We’re going to have to give up half an inning.”
“Top of the next.”

I thought that was funny.

Nice to see the author at last broke the pattern of the first 10 books. -One of Sarah's acquaintances gets killed and after much running around they decide X is the murderer and in the next scene Sarah runs directly to the real culprit's arms.- **rolls eyes
This time it was a little different. These are easy mysteries with some historical bits about life in NY at the end of the century. Aren't they kissing anymore?

When the railways first came to Australia in the 1870s, New South Wales decided on the standard rail gauge of four feet eight and a half inches while Victoria chose the broader Irish gauge of five feet three inches.

**shakes head

Not as good as Dr Siri but it was fun,

... But passion is an egg. You have to see it grow into a chicken before you decide whether it’s a boiler or a roaster.

Old Mel could surely have gone running off screaming for help. He might have beaten a pestle against the old tin tub that hung from his balcony or trekked those two kilometers to the nearest payphone. But he was a southerner. He broke off a stem of sweet grass to chew while he sat on the concrete segment and gazed into the abyss.

“Is this Chief Superintendent Northwood’s car?”
“Yes.”
“He’s asked for his shoes. From the boot.”
“His what?”
“His shoes. In the boot.”
The man got out, frowning. He went to the back of the car. Belsey climbed in, started the engine and drove.

By the end of the book he still has a job. Amazing.

I'm really disliking this DC Belsey who lies and drinks and steals non stop. He is investigating the suicide of a man and he literally steps on his shoes and moves to his house to plot and lie his way to steal the man's money. But I know he is going to fail because there is a second book in the series where he's still a policeman. My head hurts.

So John McClane, oops! I mean I Michael Bennett has a wife dying of cancer and 10 (adopted) children... omg... I like my mysteries mixed with a little drama but come on. I think this was a little too much....

My only complain is that he never says what kind of tree it was...