By Alan Bradley
Within the hamlet of Bishop's Lacey, the insidiously smart and unflappable eleven-year-old sleuth Flavia de Luce had requested a Gypsy girl to inform her fortune--never looking ahead to to later stumble around the bad soul, bludgeoned virtually to dying within the wee hours in her personal caravan. used to be this an act of retribution by way of these confident that the soothsayer kidnapped an area baby years in the past? definitely Flavia knows the bliss of settling ratings; revenge is a pleasant hobby while one has odious older sisters. yet how may this crime be attached to the lacking child? because the pink herrings pile up, Flavia needs to type via clues fishy and foul to untangle darkish deeds and unsafe secrets.
BONUS: This version comprises an excerpt from Alan Bradley's I Am Half-Sick of Shadows.
Read or Download A Red Herring Without Mustard (Flavia de Luce Mysteries, Book 3) PDF
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Extra info for A Red Herring Without Mustard (Flavia de Luce Mysteries, Book 3)
Leo had some good ideas, but Spike insisted on letting his bride write the copy. Given that the small weekly ad didn’t bring in much revenue, we’d let the Canbys have their way. Spike had literally backed off, but stood with his arms folded across his chest. Though not very tall, he was quite broad through the shoulders and chest. What had been muscle while he worked construction was turning into fat. The combination of lack of exercise and maybe sampling too many of the liquid products he peddled was making him look more like a fat cat than a sturdy bulldog.
I’ll call you,” Milo said. Delphine had stopped smiling. ” His gaze remained steady. ” Looking far from convinced, Delphine turned around and headed back toward the front of the restaurant. “Goddamnit,” he muttered, “that new waitress—Lisa or Liza or whoever—was coming our way but gave up when she saw Delphine in the way. ” He tapped ash onto the Formica tabletop, then swept it into his hand and dumped it on the floor. There was no ashtray because we were sitting in the No Smoking section. The sheriff didn’t uphold laws that inconvenienced him.
That’s what I mean. ” Leo leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “You’re off-base. If you felt the ad might be upsetting, you should have told me before our deadline. ” Leo’s glance strayed in my direction where I stood in the doorway to my office. ” “Nothing,” I said. Leo’s expression was ingenuous. “You see? You must be the only one in SkyCo who thinks the ad sounds sinister. ” Spike scowled. ” I also knew. Julie Canby had been publicity chairman for a garden club when she lived in Maltby and fancied herself a PR pro.
A Red Herring Without Mustard (Flavia de Luce Mysteries, Book 3) by Alan Bradley