Now May You Weep (Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James Series #9)

by Deborah Crombie Narrated by Michael Deehy

Overview

A crime of passion strikes close to home when Gemma and her best friend, Hazel Cavendish, travel to Scotland, a land of mists and fine whiskey, of hidden pasts and dangerous secrets, or so Gemma discovers when an unexpected meeting with Hazel's old flame yields shocking-and mortal-consequences.

Hazel is the logical suspect, but Gemma knows nothing is simple in this place of secrets and long-seething hatreds. As even more damning evidence piles up against the friend Gemma never truly knew, the investigation takes a darker, more sinister turn. Gemma knows she will need assistance to unravel this bloody knot. And so she calls the one man she can trust, Duncan Kincaid, to join her far from home and in harm's way.

Editorial Reviews

Marilyn Stasio

The roots of the crime go back two centuries, in an evolving drama told in vivid flashbacks; and although Gemma manages to solve the murder at hand, the hard and lovely land never entirely gives up its secrets.
— The New York Times

The New York Times

The roots of the crime go back two centuries, in an evolving drama told in vivid flashbacks; and although Gemma manages to solve the murder at hand, the hard and lovely land never entirely gives up its secrets. —Marilyn Stasio

Publishers Weekly

Crombie (And Justice There Is None) offers her most captivating outing yet for Scotland Yard Superintendent Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James, recently promoted to detective inspector from sergeant. Still getting over the depression caused by her miscarriage, Gemma accepts the invitation of a married friend, Hazel Cavendish, to attend a cooking weekend in Innesfree, Scotland. Gemma thinks the misty, atmospheric landscape of the Highlands, where fine whiskey is distilled and the brogues of the natives ring like music in the air, will be just what she needs to complete her recovery. However, Gemma's hopes are soon dashed by Hazel's revelation that she has come to Innesfree to meet her former lover, Donald Brodie, a handsome distillery owner. When someone shoots Donald dead, Hazel becomes a prime suspect. Gemma investigates, but must be careful to avoid stepping on the toes of DCI Alun Ross, the local authority in charge. Duncan leaves his own problems with his son, Kit, behind in London and joins Gemma in Scotland, but it's Gemma who mainly ferrets out the secrets of the large list of suspects, any one of whom could be the murderer. A master storyteller, Crombie weaves together all the pieces, including a parallel story from a century earlier, to create a fabric as rich and history-laden as a tartan plaid. With vivid settings, well-developed characters and a finely tuned mystery, this is a pure gem guaranteed to satisfy both police procedural and cozy fans. Agent, Nancy Yost. (On sale Oct. 7) Forecast: Crombie has been nominated for Edgar, Agatha and Macavity awards. This time she may finally win one. A six-city author tour can't hurt. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Library Journal

The latest in Crombie's series starring Scotland Yard Superintendent Duncan Kincaid and Inspector Gemma James (And Justice There Is None) finds the two leaving their usual London beat for the Scottish Highlands. Gemma's good friend Hazel Cavendish invites her to attend a cooking weekend. Unbeknown to Gemma, Hazel is also going to decide this weekend whether she should leave her husband for Donald Brodie, the man she almost married years ago. When a murder puts Hazel under suspicion, Duncan joins them to lend his support, even though he is dealing with his ex-mother-in-law's attempt to gain custody of his son. Crombie again has written an intense mystery, full of believable characters. Scotland comes alive with whisky distilleries and through an old family diary that is interwoven in the story. Highly recommended. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 6/15/03.]-Deborah Shippy, Moline P.L., IL Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Detective Inspector Gemma James (And Justice There Is None, 2002, etc.) is cast in some unaccustomed roles-dupe and murder suspect-when she goes to Scotland for a cooking class. Gemma doesn't know what's really cooking. Her friend and former landlady, psychologist Hazel Cavendish, is less interested in picking up culinary expertise from chef John Innes than in rekindling her ancient romance with local distiller Donald Brodie. Not even Hazel knows that Donald's also being pursued by shopgirl Alison Grant, who's pursued in turn (in a neat completion of Crombie's social stratification) by stable owner Callum MacGillivray. The situation is obviously explosive, and when John is killed, the only surprise is that it took so long. As the suspects stand around pointing their fingers at each other-at one point somebody suggests they must all be in it together-DCI Alun Ross gets pointedly interested in Hazel, and even in Hazel's husband Tim, who seemed to be safely tucked away back in London. Meanwhile, Gemma's lover and housemate, Supt. Duncan Kincaid, is threatened with the loss of his late wife's son in a custody suit. For good measure, there's also a series of flashbacks to a pivotal episode in the distillery's history a hundred years ago. The atmosphere is rich and peaty, but the pace is glacial-nearly another century passes before the plot begins to thicken-and neither Gemma nor Kincaid shines as a detective this time. Agent: Nancy Yost/Lowenstein Associates

From the Publisher

Crombie has mastered the genre of Agatha Christie.” — Commonwealth Journal

Praise for Leave the Grave Green “... tidily plotted and neatly written... The genuine article.” — Kirkus Reviews

Commonwealth Journal

Crombie has mastered the genre of Agatha Christie.

APR/MAY 05 - AudioFile

Michael Deehy convincingly renders a wide range of Scottish and English accents in his superb reading of NOW MAY YOU WEEP, a recent installment in Deborah Crombie’s popular series of English mysteries featuring Scotland Yard detectives and lovers Duncan Kinkaid and Gemma James. This time, Duncan and Gemma take a busman’s holiday when the host of Gemma’s bed-and-breakfast in Glenlivet Valley, Scotland, is murdered. Old romances and festering resentments, both historic and current, provide the context for an entertaining whodunit. In addition to accents, Deehy manages to make clear the frequent shifts in time and place without disturbing the flow of the engaging narration. This is a very good performance of a mystery so satisfying it will have you curled up for the entire weekend. R.E.K. © AudioFile 2005, Portland, Maine

Product Details

BN ID:	2940174007215
Publisher:	Blackstone Audio, Inc.
Publication date:	03/13/2017
Series:	Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James Series , #9
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Now May You Weep
A Novel

Chapter One

If there's a sword-like sang
That can cut Scotland clear
O a' the warld beside
Rax me the hilt o't here.

-- Hugh Macdiarmid,
"To Circumjack Cencrastus"

Carnmore, November 1898

Wrapped in her warmest cloak and shawl, Livvy Urquhart paced the worn kitchen flags. The red-walled room looked a cozy sanctuary with its warm stove and open shelves filled with crockery, but outside the wind whipped and moaned round the house and distillery with an eerily human voice, and the chill penetrated even the thick stone walls of the old house.

It was worry for her husband, Charles, that had kept Livvy up into the wee hours of the night. He would have been traveling back from Edinburgh when the blizzard struck, unexpectedly early in the season, unexpectedly fierce for late autumn.

And the road from Cock Bridge to Tomintoul, the route Charles must take to reach Carnmore, was always the first in Scotland to be completely blocked by snow. Had his carriage run off the track, both horse and driver blinded by the stinging wall of white fury that met them as they came up the pass? Was her husband even now lying in a ditch, or a snowbank, slowly succumbing to the numbing cold?

Her fear kept her pacing, long after she'd sent her son, sixteen-year-old Will, to bed, and as the hours wore on, the knowledge of her situation brought her near desperation. Trapped in the snug, white-harled house, she was as helpless as poor Charles, and useless to him. Soon she would not even be able to reach the distillery outbuildings, much less the track that led to the tiny village of Chapeltown.

Livvy sank into the rocker by the stove, fighting back tears she refused to acknowledge. She was a Grant by birth, after all, and Grants were no strangers to danger and harsh circumstances. They had not only survived in this land for generations but had also flourished, and if she had grown up in the relative comfort of the town, she had now lived long enough in the Braes to take hardship and isolation for granted.

And Charles ... Charles was a sensible man -- too sensible, she had thought often enough in the seventeen years of their marriage. He would have taken shelter at the first signs of the storm in some roadside inn or croft. He was safe, of course he was safe, and so she would hold him in her mind, as if her very concentration could protect him.

She stood again and went to the window. Wiping at the thick pane of glass with the hem of her cloak, she saw nothing but a swirl of white. What would she tell Will in the morning, if there was no sign of his father? A new fear clutched at her. Although a quiet boy, Will had a stubborn and impulsive streak. It would be like him to decide to strike off into the snow in search of Charles.

Hurriedly, she lit a candle and left the kitchen for the dark chill of the house, her heart racing. But when she reached her son's first-floor bedroom, she found him sleeping soundly, one arm free of his quilts, his much-read copy of Kidnapped open on his chest. Easing the book from his grasp, she rearranged the covers, then stood looking down at him. From his father he had inherited the neat features and the fine, straight, light brown hair, and from his father had come the love of books and the streak of romanticism. To Will, Davie Balfour and the Jacobite Alan Breck were as real as his friends at the distillery; but lately, his fascination with the Rebellion of '45 seemed to have faded, and he'd begun to talk more of safety bicycles and blowlamps, and the new steam-powered wagons George Smith was using to transport whisky over at Drumin. All natural for a boy his age, Livvy knew, especially with the new century now little more than a year away, but still it pained her to see him slipping out of the warm, safe confines of farm, village, and distillery.

More slowly, Livvy went downstairs, shivering a little even in her cloak, and settled again in her chair. She fixed her mind on Charles, but when an uneasy slumber at last overtook her, it was not Charles of whom she dreamed.

She saw a woman's heart-shaped face. Familiar dark eyes, so similar to her own, gazed back at her, but Livvy knew with the irrefutable certainty of dreams that it was not her own reflection she beheld. The woman's hair was dark and curling, like her own, but it had been cropped short, as if the woman had suffered an illness. The dream-figure wore odd clothing as well, a sleeveless shift reminiscent of a nightdress or an undergarment. Her exposed skin was brown as a laborer's, but when she raised a hand to brush at her cheek, Livvy saw that her hands were smooth and unmarked.

The woman seemed to be sitting in a railway carriage -- Livvy recognized the swaying motion of the train—but the blurred landscape sped by outside the windows at a speed impossible except in dreams.

Livvy, trying to speak, struggled against the cotton wool that seemed to envelop her. "What-- Who--" she began, but the image was fading. It flared suddenly and dimmed, as if someone had blown out a lamp, but Livvy could have sworn that in the last instant she had seen a glimpse of startled recognition in the woman's eyes.

She gasped awake, her heart pounding, but she knew at once it was not the dream that had awakened her. There had been a sound, a movement, at the kitchen door. Livvy stood, her hand to her throat, paralyzed by sudden hope. "Charles?"

Now May You Weep
A Novel. Copyright © by Deborah Crombie. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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