By Carolyn Hart
Secret bookstall proprietor Annie Laurance is well-acquainted with homicide, yet she by no means imagined one happening on her honeymoon! a wonderful spoof of recent Age mumbo jumbo by way of an writer whose paintings has been in comparison to that of Agatha Christie.
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Additional resources for Honeymoon with Murder (Death on Demand Mysteries, No. 4)
How lengthy would it not take Billy to come back? might he come? And if he did, would not he arrest Annie for getting into a proscribed crime scene? would not he do whatever and every little thing to guard Mavis? Annies brain raced. probably Billy Cameron used to be within the bed room instantaneously, a assassin again to plant proof to incriminate Ingrid. Or it may be an individual! Duane Webb, or that dreadful Prescott girl, or that pale-eyed Smith guy. Annie gripped her flashlight like a billy membership. (They have been made up of rosewood round the flip of the century. Annie had one who have been carried by way of a captain in New York's best and was once now fixed beside the mug assortment in dying on call for. ) She crept ahead. She was once aware that nearly anyone of the suspects outweighed her. She did not have the heft of both Penny Wanawake or Carlotta Carlyle. She must depend on velocity and resolution. And she'd by no means hit somebody over the top in her whole lifestyles. however the prepared biff used to be definitely a part of an exceptional detectives arsenal. and she or he needed to be aware of who the intruder used to be. probably it rather was once the assassin. She may remedy the case and locate Ingrid! Adrenaline pumped via her. She lifted her flashlight-armed hand, became the knob, flung open the door of thev bed room and charged. It was once in mid-flight, her weapon descending towards the crouched determine dimly illuminated through a pencil flash, that Annie breathed the unmistakable, special odor of mountain-fresh lilac. In a flailing, determined attempt to prevent touch, Annie lurched sideways, tripped, and ended up flat on her again, breathless and aching. And livid. "Annie, my dear," Laurel chided lightly, "I understand you're continuously in a rush, yet rather, my candy, is it clever to release your self so precipitously in the dead of night? " 11 overdue Sunday evening "Makes copies front and back, in 5 colours, and collates. " Henny closed the paper holder and punched 3 buttons. Max studied the open liquor cupboard through the sunshine of his flash. He took no real interest in mechanical information. the data handy, he used to be particularly prepared to allow Henny take cost of reproducing it. "Harley does himself proud. " He held up one bottle. "My God, does anyone truly drink creme de menthe? " "Sounds like Harley. Any scotch? " Serenely, she put the second one condominium software onto the laptop to be copied. "Sure. Dewars and Johnnie Walker Black. " "I'll take Dewars. " Max's voice was once muffled as he bent to open the fridge. "Ice maker, too. the entire comforts of your place bar. " He chanced on glasses, poured their beverages, passed one to Henny. She raised her glass in salute. "So you had 'further assets to attract on' in compiling info on our suspects? " He smiled blandly. "How a few gentleman's contract, Henny? you do not demonstrate my sources—and I will not display yours. " The pleased clink of glasses sealed their discount. Annie's hip throbbed from her fall, yet she missed the nagging pain as she peered closely on the round loops within the braided rug. She overlooked, also—or attempted to— the husky buzzing that drifted from Ingrid's bed room.