This week I finished seven books, one of which I have been meaning to read for decades. I finally read the Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett, and, while I thoroughly enjoyed it, I don't think a "top pick" in my puny book blog is a meaningful accolade for this classic.
Besides, I liked better the psychological twists of Charles Todd's The Murder Stone. Set in 1916 England at the height of WWI, Francesca Hatton survives the wartime deaths of her five cousins who were like brothers to her and her grandfather who raised them. Upon her grandfather's death she is presented with a mystery and through her grief she grasps at bits and pieces of her life and memories to solve it.
The wounded (physically and mentally) men and mourning women of the story provide depth. The confusion of emotions comes through evocatively in the writing without being morose. And the ending is great.
Not a true "whodunit," this book is much more than tracing clues from a dead body. Even non-mystery lovers will enjoy this story.