By M. C. Beaton
Unique ebook: 1991
Believing that somebody is making an attempt to homicide her, stunning Jane Wetherby asks Hamish Macbeth to spend Christmas along with her and an particular workforce of neighbors at her Scottish island wellbeing and fitness farm. With a chilly in his head and no position to head for the vacations, Hamish accepts her invitation. He thinks the woman is a section daft, yet, arriving at the lonely isle of Eileencraig, he feels a prickle of foreboding. The locals are brazenly threatening; the opposite visitors, particularly a bad snob named Heather Todd, are slightly civil. So while Heather meets an premature finish, Hamish is familiar with he doesn't have a ways to seem for the perpetrator. the one snag in his research is that each one the visitors have been in the home while Heather vanished. Now, as mysterious occasions abound on Eileencraig, Hamish needs to paintings in the course of the vacation sniffles to discover the killer-or else will probably be a truly depressing Christmas certainly . . .
Read or Download Death of a Snob (Hamish Macbeth, Book 6) PDF
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Extra resources for Death of a Snob (Hamish Macbeth, Book 6)
I sighed, and Cecilie sent me a dejected smile as if to apologise further for her tiny slip of the tongue. ’ A telephone rang and Hans went to answer the call. Cecilie came over to me. ‘Sorry, Varg. I didn’t mean to open up old …’ ‘Not at all. Relax, it’s not your …’ Hans returned. ‘Police on the line. ’ I looked at Cecilie, who nodded towards me. ’ I went into the hall, to the coin-operated telephone on the wall. ’ ‘This woman, Vibecke Skarnes. ’ ‘Er … she wasn’t there any more. ’ ‘What do you think we are?
The police had cordoned off the house with red and white plastic tape, a measure which did not prevent anyone from entering if they wished. I looked towards the house. It had a dark, closed air. An outside lamp was on. That was all. A car door further down the street was slammed. I stared after it. Two men were coming towards me. Neither of them wearing a uniform, but they didn’t need to. I recognised them by their gait, and when they were close up I recognised Ellingsen and Bøe. Ellingsen because he had married an ex-girlfriend of mine; Boe I had seen at the police station.
Down on the quay, delivery boys and porters passed by with sacks over their shoulders and barrels on their handcarts. Another town, another time, other problems. Almost an hour passed before the office door opened again. Marianne Storetvedt carefully led Jan through the double doors into the waiting room. She shot us a look and gave a quick shake of her head. Then in a friendly tone, while patting him on the shoulder, she said: ‘Johnny boy doesn’t feel like talking to us today. That’s his right.
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