Cover image for The Grave Maurice : a Richard Jury mystery
The Grave Maurice : a Richard Jury mystery
Grimes, Martha.
Personal Author:
Publication Information:
New York : Viking, 2002.
Physical Description:
424 pages ; 25 cm
Program Information:
Accelerated Reader AR UG 5.0 17.0 65226.
Format :


Call Number
Material Type
Home Location
Central Library X Adult Fiction Popular Materials-Mystery
Angola Public Library X Adult Fiction Mystery/Suspense
Clearfield Library X Adult Fiction Mystery/Suspense
Grand Island Library X Adult Fiction Mystery/Suspense
Hamburg Library X Adult Fiction Mystery/Suspense
Lackawanna Library X Adult Fiction Mystery/Suspense
Lancaster Library X Adult Fiction Mystery/Suspense
Orchard Park Library X Adult Fiction Mystery/Suspense
Anna M. Reinstein Library X Adult Fiction Mystery/Suspense

On Order



"Chew on this," says Melrose Plant to Richard Jury, who's in the hospital being driven crazy by Hannibal, a nurse who likes to speculate on his chances for survival. Jury could use a good story, preferably one not ending with his own demise. Plant tells Jury of something he overheard in The Grave Maurice, a pub near the hospital. A woman told an intriguing story about a girl named Nell Ryder, granddaughter to the owner of the Ryder Stud Farm in Cambridgeshire, who went missing more than a year before and has never been found. What is especially interesting to Plant is that Nell is also the daughter of Jury's surgeon. But Nell's disappearance isn't the only mystery at the Ryder farm. A woman has been found dead on the track-a woman who was a stranger even to the Ryders. But not to Plant. She's the woman he saw in The Grave Maurice. Together with Jury, Nell's family, and the Cambridgeshire police, Plant embarks on a search to find Nell and bring her home. But is there more to their mission than just restoring a fifteen-year-old girl to her family? The Grave Mauriceis the eighteenth entry in the Richard Jury series and, from its pastoral opening to its calamitous end, is full of the same suspense and humor that devoted readers expect from Martha Grimes.

Author Notes

Martha Grimes was born on May 2, 1931 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She received a B.A. and an M.A. from the University of Maryland.

The idea for Martha Grimes' first British detective novel, The Man with a Load of Mischief (1981), was inspired by the name of a British pub she noticed while leafing through a travel book. A longtime Anglophile, she has continued to use a British pub as both the title and part of the setting in each subsequent novel in the series which features Scotland Yard Detective Richard Jury, his assistant, Melrose Plant, and Plant's interfering Aunt Agatha. The Anodyne Necklace (1983) won her the Nero Wolfe Award. Her other works include The Stargazey, The Case Has Been Altered, The End of the Pier, Biting the Moon, and Dust. Her title, Vertigo 42, made The New York Times Best Seller List in 2014.

(Bowker Author Biography)

Reviews 3

Booklist Review

This satisfyingly old-fashioned detective tale pays homage to Josephine Tey's famous historical mystery The Daughter of Time. Like Tey's detective, Richard Jury is bedridden, recovering from shotgun wounds. And, as in Tey, a colleague, the aristocrat Melrose Plant, tries to get Jury's mind off his wounds by having him puzzle over a crime. Tey's mystery of who murdered the princes in the tower is updated to who kidnapped and perhaps imprisoned a contemporary princess, the daughter of Jury's surgeon, who disappeared two years before from a stable that employed her. Although Grimes writes contemporary mysteries, readers may find themselves checking the dates given, since Grimes' style is veddy 1940s British cozy. The pace is leisurely (often to the point of exasperation, as Plant putters about in his sleuthing), and the language is decidedly throwback and formal. As in every Richard Jury of Scotland Yard novel (this is the eighteenth), the action centers on a pub--in this case, the Grave Maurice is the grim-looking pub in which colleague Plant overhears a conversation that gets him and Jury involved in the girl's disappearance. There is far too much of the foppish Plant (Jury is in the hospital for the first 26 chapters), but vintage Grimes nonetheless. --Connie Fletcher

Publisher's Weekly Review

Grimes's popular mysteries are named after British pubs, and Rees's excellent performance here will make readers feel as if they're at the bar themselves, listening to the actor spin a good, old-fashioned detective story. Grimes (The Blue Last) has updated Josephine Tey's famous Daughter of Time by having her detective, Scotland Yard's own Richard Jury, solve a mystery while spending time in a hospital. Jury's friend, the aristocratic and occasionally ponderous Melrose Plant, overhears two women talking in the Grave Maurice about Richard's surgeon, whose daughter disappeared two years before from the racing stable where she worked. With Plant doing the legwork, Jury manages to solve the case without getting out of his pajamas. Rees, known for playing an arrogant British ambassador on The West Wing, nicely delineates Plant from the saltier, more ironic Jury, presenting a satisfying tale that should delight mystery fans. Simultaneous release with the Viking hardcover (Forecasts, Aug. 5). (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

Library Journal Review

Richard Jury is back, and he's in the hospital but not for long. Dependable sidekick Melrose Plant has overheard the tale of a missing girl, and when it turns out that she is the daughter of Jury's surgeon and that the gossipy woman who related the story is now dead the daring duo take the case. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.



1. Twenty months later Melrose Plant looked around the rather grim environs of the Grave Maurice and wondered if it was patronized by the staff of the Royal London Hospital across the street. Apparently it did serve as some sort of stopping-off point for them, for Melrose recognized one of the doctors standing at the farther end of the long bar. As Melrose stood there inside the door, the doctor emptied his half-pint, gathered up his coat and turned to leave. He passed Melrose on his way out of the pub and gave him a distracted nod and a vague smile, as if he were trying to place him. Melrose stepped up to the place the doctor had left, filling the vacuum. He was looking at the woman close by, one of surpassing beauty-glossy, dark hair, high cheekbones, eyes whose color he couldn't see without staring but which were large and widely spaced. She was talking to another woman, hair a darkish blond, whose back was turned to Melrose and who drank a pale drink, probably a Chardonnay, whose ubiquity, together with the wine bars that loved to serve it up, Melrose couldn't understand. The dark-haired one was drinking stout. Good for her. The bartender, a bearded Indian, posed an indecipherable query that Melrose could only suppose was a variant of "What will it be, mate?" The operative term was either "grog" or "dog," as in "Want a bit o' grog?" or "Walkin' yer dog?" Having no dog, Melrose ordered an Old Peculier. The Grave Maurice had its foot in the door of "hovel-like." Melrose looked all around and made his assessment, pleased. For some reason, he could always appreciate a hovel; he felt quite at home. The incomprehensible barman, the patched window, the broken table leg, the streaked mirror, the clientele. The two women near him were a cut above the other customers. They were well dressed, the dark-haired one quite fashionably, in a well-cut black suit and understated jewelry. The blond one, whose profile Melrose glimpsed, appeared to know the barman (even to understand the barman) with his raffishly wound turban. After he returned, smilingly, with the refills and Melrose's fresh drink and then took himself off, the dark-haired woman picked up their conversation again. The blonde was doing the listening. They were talking about someone named Ryder, which immediately made Melrose prick up his ears, as this was the name of the doctor who had just departed and whom, he supposed, the one woman must have recognized. But he was rather surprised to hear him further referred to as "poor sod." The second woman, whose voice was distinct while at the same time being low and unobtrusive, asked the dark-haired one what she meant. Melrose waited for the answer. Unfortunately, the details were getting lost in the woman's lowered voice, but he did catch the word disappeared. The dark-haired woman dipped her head to her glass and said something else that Melrose couldn't catch. But then he heard, "His daughter. It was in the papers." The blonde seemed appalled. "When was that?" "Nearly two years ago, but it doesn't get any-" Melrose lost the rest of the comment. The one who had made it shrugged slightly, not a dismissive shrug, but a weary one. Weary, perhaps, of misfortune. If she was a doctor too, Melrose could understand the weariness. Then she said, ". . . brother was my . . . killed . . ." The blonde made a sound of sympathy and said, "How awful. Did-" If only they'd stop talking clearly on the one hand and whispering on the other! Melrose, who kept telling himself he couldn't help overhearing this conversation, could, of course, have taken his beer to a table, and he supposed he would if his presence so close beside them got to be a little too noticeable. But he wanted to hear whatever he could about this doctor's daughter; it sounded fascinating. He thought the phrase "poor sod" suggested some unhappy tale and he was always up for one of those. Sort of thing that makes you glad you're you and not them. How morbid. He then heard something about insurance and the dark-haired woman was going on about South America and a warmer climate. She appeared to be planning a trip. He didn't care about this; he wanted to hear more about the person who had disappeared. The blonde occasionally turned to retrieve her cigarette, and then Melrose could pick up the drift. "-this doctor's daughter?" The woman facing Melrose nodded. "So it never ends for him . . . closure." "I hate that word," said the blonde, with a little laugh. (Melrose was ready to marry her on the spot. Inwardly, he applauded. He hated the word, too.) "All it means is that something's unended, unfinished. Why not just say that?" The blonde was not in the mood for a semantic argument. "There never is, anyway," she said, slipping from the stool. "What?" The dark-haired woman was puzzled. "Closure. Everything remains unfinished." The dark-haired woman sighed. "Perhaps. Poor Roger." Roger Ryder, thought Melrose. When the blonde caught Melrose looking and listening, she gave him a rueful half smile. He pretended not to notice, though it would be difficult not to notice that mouth, that hair. Melrose paid for his beer and slid off the stool. His daughter. Two years ago something had happened to her, and it hadn't been death. Death would have closed it. The girl had disappeared. Had something happened in South America? No, he thought that must be another story altogether. On the other hand, Ryder's daughter's disappearance-that had been in the papers. But Melrose wouldn't have to search the Times. Roger Ryder was Richard Jury's surgeon. --from The Grave Maurice by Martha Grimes, Copyright © September 2002, Viking Press, a member of Penguin Putnam, Inc., used by permission. Excerpted from The Grave Maurice by Martha Grimes All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Google Preview