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Ivor Maddox #11
Skeletons in the Closet
Ivor Maddox, a police detective, investigates the disappearance of a thirteen-year-old boy, a vandalized church, two bodies in an abandoned house, and the murder of a businessman
- GenresMystery
178 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1982
13 people are currently reading
21 people want to read
About the author
Elizabeth Linington
58 books5 followersLinington wrote under several monikers, including Anne Blaisdell, Lesley Egan, Egan O'Neill and Dell Shannon.
Barbara "Elizabeth" Linington (March 11, 1921–April 5, 1988) was a prolific American novelist. She was awarded runner-up scrolls for best first mystery novel from the Mystery Writers of America for her 1960 novel, Case Pending, which introduced her most popular series character, LAPD Homicide Lieutenant Luis Mendoza. Her 1961 tome, Nightmare, and her 1962 novel, Knave of Hearts, another entry in the Mendoza series, were both nominated for Edgars in the Best Novel category. Regarded as the "Queen of the Procedurals," she was one of the first women to write police procedurals — a male-dominated genre of police-story writing.
She was born in Aurora, Kane County, Illinois; and died on April 5, 1988 in Arroyo Grande, San Luis Obispo County, California. During much of her career she was represented by literary agent Barthold Fles.
Besides crime, Linington also took interest in archaeology, the occult, gemstones, antique weapons and languages.
Barbara "Elizabeth" Linington (March 11, 1921–April 5, 1988) was a prolific American novelist. She was awarded runner-up scrolls for best first mystery novel from the Mystery Writers of America for her 1960 novel, Case Pending, which introduced her most popular series character, LAPD Homicide Lieutenant Luis Mendoza. Her 1961 tome, Nightmare, and her 1962 novel, Knave of Hearts, another entry in the Mendoza series, were both nominated for Edgars in the Best Novel category. Regarded as the "Queen of the Procedurals," she was one of the first women to write police procedurals — a male-dominated genre of police-story writing.
She was born in Aurora, Kane County, Illinois; and died on April 5, 1988 in Arroyo Grande, San Luis Obispo County, California. During much of her career she was represented by literary agent Barthold Fles.
Besides crime, Linington also took interest in archaeology, the occult, gemstones, antique weapons and languages.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
February 18, 2025
Barbara Elizabeth Linington — aka Dell Shannon/Lesley Egan/Anne Blaisdell/Egan O’Neill — writes another enjoyable entry in the Ivor Maddox/Susan Carstairs series of police procedurals in Skeletons in the Closet. This one is from 1982.
Humanizing her police officers, showing them as decent people with private lives and families, and balancing that peek behind the curtain with a fast flowing narrative highlighting the vast array of crime at the center of their daily lives is something Linington did better than anyone, and she did so prolifically, and for decades. Often within her narratives her cops would either wonder, or openly comment on the citizenry, and the decay of morality and values.
When it comes to juggling a literal slew of cases within the same narrative in the most sterling entries, Linington had no peer, not even McBain, who was the King to her Queen in this genre. Evidence of that is presented here. Skeletons in the Closet, like all her police procedurals, is wildly different from the so-called “procedurals” of today. These overhyped books usually involve one case, or one killer on a spree, are littered with graphic brutality and violence, and are filled with expletives masquerading as “grit”. They are not nearly as complex or well written, and often they are boring, despite their artificially high ratings.
There are so many cases and avenues of investigation going in Skeletons that it would be confusing in a lesser writer’s hand. That degree of difficulty, and the talent to pull it off that Linington and few others had, is why in our day, the “procedural” has basically been pared down to accommodate a reading public who prefer graphic blood and gore, brutality and crassness, to a humanized series about the hectic day-to-day life of decent cops trying to keep the public safe, and wondering at times why they bother. Linington is like an orchestra leader, making sure all the many instruments chime in at the right time to create a lovely piece of music; or in her case, another enjoyable outing for the men and women of the Wilcox, Hollywood station.
On the home front in this eleventh entry in the series, Ivor and Susan are trying to start a family, Sue’s old Chrysler is on its last legs, and Maddox is having issues with the Maserati. But this is offset by the good news that Susan finally has a baby on the way. And it doesn’t hurt to have a built-in babysitter in Susan’s mother, who lives with them and dotes on Ivor.
On the work front, crime is everywhere, with D’Arcy and Rodrigues and the rest of the gang juggling burglaries and murder, rape and hit-and-runs with a recent spate of young vandals breaking into churches and wreaking havoc. There’s a string of hold-ups that appear to be amateurs, but deadly ones, robbing strange atypical places where there is very little cash on hand. Then there is a very sad story of a young boy who goes collecting dues for his paper route, and ends up murdered and sexually molested, with only a single-father left to mourn the sweet boy. Another child is a victim of hit-and-run, left with her head smashed against a curb, her life over. She was on her way home from a sleepover.
In any other writer’s hands, this would be more than enough, but Linington shows that crime never stops, and the only thing standing between violence and chaos, is the unappreciated decent men and woman doing everything they can to keep life livable for the citizenry. In a huge case, making way for new home construction leads to the discovery of long-buried bodies. It is the type of unusual case that Rodriguez finds most interesting. But then more bodies are found under houses, unidentifiable other than their sex, and a pattern begins to emerge that has implications that are horrifying.
And Ivor can’t shake the feeling there is something very wrong with the explanations around a dead man, and his wife and a son who was often berated and belittled by the man. Only after it is discovered the son was adopted, and Sue uses her motherly instincts to wonder about some tentacle involving that dynamic, does this final case reach a sad conclusion. It is one of the strangest and most heartbreaking reasons for murder that Maddox and Carstairs have ever encountered.
Wonderfully written, with a flowing narrative where Linington does the hard work for us, juggling the many cases and the investigations of them by her officers so the reader can simply sit back and enjoy. Skeletons in the Closet is another sterling entry in a series that began in 1964 and didn’t see its final entry until 1986, two years before we lost one of the great crime writers of the twentieth century.
Whatever moniker Linington wrote under, she is just as good a read today as when her books were gobbled up by crime and mystery lovers for nearly four decades. In some ways, the societal decline she wrote about through the minds — and sometimes words — of her decent cops, is more pertinent today than ever. Linington was a Conservative, using common sense, and she wrote in a time when writers could tell the truth. Her procedurals are not “out of date” as some would have you believe. Moral decency and common sense never go out of date. They can be abandoned by individuals or groups at certain points in history, even disdained, but the more traditional values held by her officers remain relevant.
Only two books left in the Ivor Maddox/Susan Carstairs series of procedurals left for me to savor when I have the opportunity, then I’ll have read them all, and I can start over at the beginning. Skeletons in the Closet is another entry in the series that is highly recommended.
Humanizing her police officers, showing them as decent people with private lives and families, and balancing that peek behind the curtain with a fast flowing narrative highlighting the vast array of crime at the center of their daily lives is something Linington did better than anyone, and she did so prolifically, and for decades. Often within her narratives her cops would either wonder, or openly comment on the citizenry, and the decay of morality and values.
When it comes to juggling a literal slew of cases within the same narrative in the most sterling entries, Linington had no peer, not even McBain, who was the King to her Queen in this genre. Evidence of that is presented here. Skeletons in the Closet, like all her police procedurals, is wildly different from the so-called “procedurals” of today. These overhyped books usually involve one case, or one killer on a spree, are littered with graphic brutality and violence, and are filled with expletives masquerading as “grit”. They are not nearly as complex or well written, and often they are boring, despite their artificially high ratings.
There are so many cases and avenues of investigation going in Skeletons that it would be confusing in a lesser writer’s hand. That degree of difficulty, and the talent to pull it off that Linington and few others had, is why in our day, the “procedural” has basically been pared down to accommodate a reading public who prefer graphic blood and gore, brutality and crassness, to a humanized series about the hectic day-to-day life of decent cops trying to keep the public safe, and wondering at times why they bother. Linington is like an orchestra leader, making sure all the many instruments chime in at the right time to create a lovely piece of music; or in her case, another enjoyable outing for the men and women of the Wilcox, Hollywood station.
On the home front in this eleventh entry in the series, Ivor and Susan are trying to start a family, Sue’s old Chrysler is on its last legs, and Maddox is having issues with the Maserati. But this is offset by the good news that Susan finally has a baby on the way. And it doesn’t hurt to have a built-in babysitter in Susan’s mother, who lives with them and dotes on Ivor.
On the work front, crime is everywhere, with D’Arcy and Rodrigues and the rest of the gang juggling burglaries and murder, rape and hit-and-runs with a recent spate of young vandals breaking into churches and wreaking havoc. There’s a string of hold-ups that appear to be amateurs, but deadly ones, robbing strange atypical places where there is very little cash on hand. Then there is a very sad story of a young boy who goes collecting dues for his paper route, and ends up murdered and sexually molested, with only a single-father left to mourn the sweet boy. Another child is a victim of hit-and-run, left with her head smashed against a curb, her life over. She was on her way home from a sleepover.
In any other writer’s hands, this would be more than enough, but Linington shows that crime never stops, and the only thing standing between violence and chaos, is the unappreciated decent men and woman doing everything they can to keep life livable for the citizenry. In a huge case, making way for new home construction leads to the discovery of long-buried bodies. It is the type of unusual case that Rodriguez finds most interesting. But then more bodies are found under houses, unidentifiable other than their sex, and a pattern begins to emerge that has implications that are horrifying.
And Ivor can’t shake the feeling there is something very wrong with the explanations around a dead man, and his wife and a son who was often berated and belittled by the man. Only after it is discovered the son was adopted, and Sue uses her motherly instincts to wonder about some tentacle involving that dynamic, does this final case reach a sad conclusion. It is one of the strangest and most heartbreaking reasons for murder that Maddox and Carstairs have ever encountered.
Wonderfully written, with a flowing narrative where Linington does the hard work for us, juggling the many cases and the investigations of them by her officers so the reader can simply sit back and enjoy. Skeletons in the Closet is another sterling entry in a series that began in 1964 and didn’t see its final entry until 1986, two years before we lost one of the great crime writers of the twentieth century.
Whatever moniker Linington wrote under, she is just as good a read today as when her books were gobbled up by crime and mystery lovers for nearly four decades. In some ways, the societal decline she wrote about through the minds — and sometimes words — of her decent cops, is more pertinent today than ever. Linington was a Conservative, using common sense, and she wrote in a time when writers could tell the truth. Her procedurals are not “out of date” as some would have you believe. Moral decency and common sense never go out of date. They can be abandoned by individuals or groups at certain points in history, even disdained, but the more traditional values held by her officers remain relevant.
Only two books left in the Ivor Maddox/Susan Carstairs series of procedurals left for me to savor when I have the opportunity, then I’ll have read them all, and I can start over at the beginning. Skeletons in the Closet is another entry in the series that is highly recommended.
January 11, 2025
Good book! I love to read the old books!! I have so many to go through I love to read all my books
September 8, 2007
I have to admit, the dated style, language and attitudes really put me off at first. But once I got into the story, I was more involved. The best case out of this one involves two skeletons found under a vacant house. The previous tenant is nowhere to be found, but he's left an interesting trail behind him.
April 10, 2016
It reminded me of a 1950s cop tv show. It follows a squad of detectives as the different crimes come into the squad. It really wasn't much more about Maddox than the others, so the description was misleading. But it was kind of interesting how the detectives started to analyze data and follow leads to solve the cases.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews