By M. C. Beaton
Light by way of identify, light by way of nature. every body within the sleepy Scottish city of Lochdubh adores aged Mrs. mild - each person yet Hamish Macbeth, that's. Hamish thinks the light girl is kind of sly and harsh, and the electorate of Lochdubh imagine he's overly cranky. might be it's time for him to get married, they say.
But who has time for marriage while there's a homicide to be solved? while Mrs. light dies less than mysterious situations, town is surprised and outraged. leader Detective Inspector Blair suspects participants of her kinfolk, yet Hamish Macbeth thinks there's extra to the tale, and starts off investigating the reality in the back of this lady's light external.
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Extra resources for Death of a Gentle Lady (Hamish Macbeth, Book 23)
Watching it, Joanna uttered a small prayer that high winds, which were an automatic prelude to an approaching monsoon, would hold off long enough for the helicopter crew to work its search-and-rescue magic. Knowing how long it would take to sort things out, Joanna called home to check on Butch and on Dennis, who had passed the four-month mark two days earlier. Now that Joanna’s maternity leave was over, Butch had been doing a good job of being Mr. Mom, but she knew there were times when he was overwhelmed.
Alfred closed the book. ” he asked. “We’ve been really lucky,” Martha said, pouring second cups of coffee. He marveled that she could still see well enough to do that without spilling any. “Yes,” he agreed. ” she asked. ” Their two daughters had had a falling-out in high school when they’d both been interested in the same boy—a Bisbee High School bad boy who hadn’t married either one of them. But the bad blood between the two sisters, Sandra Louise and Samantha Ann, had stuck. They still didn’t speak—couldn’t come to the same holiday celebrations.
Lauren had already decided that this was where Rick Mosier would meet his “fair princess” match. This was Lauren’s home, her castle, and she was going to make her last stand here no matter what. Not that there was time for her to move or run away even if she’d wanted to. Besides, where would she have gone—out through her carefully barred window and then down a twenty-foot drop to hard-packed bare dirt? Not a good idea. Then suddenly he was there—a dark silhouette looming in her bedroom doorway.