By M. C. Beaton
Unique booklet: 1995
Lochdubh constable Hamish Macbeth is extra dour than ever after wasting either his merchandising and his woman, the unswerving Priscilla Halbourton-Smythe. a visit to an enthralling seashore resort along with his puppy Towser is intended to elevate his sagging spirits. in its place, he arrives at "Friendly House" to discover the environment chilling, the foodstuff inedible, and his fellow site visitors under neighborly. There's an amorous spinster, tarty women, a retired army guy, a secretive London kinfolk, and Bob Harris, who so nags his spouse, Doris, that everybody desires to kill him. Then a person does. quickly Macbeth is named upon to behave -- to dig into the prior and deep into the guts to bring whatever extra daunting than in simple terms the perpetrator: Justice.
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Extra info for Death of a Nag (Hamish Macbeth, Book 11)
Very well, thank you,” she said, still looking at Sarah expectantly. Nelson reluctantly obliged her by introducing them. Sarah found she was still his “friend,” and Miss Porter, she learned, was another boarder. She seemed just as suspicious of Sarah as the landlady had been. “Mrs. Walcott said that Miss Blake isn’t feeling well,” Nelson said, a question in his tone. ” Before Nelson could reply, they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. ” Nelson hurried out into the foyer, brushing unceremoniously past Miss Porter, who gave Sarah one last curious look before nodding her head, murmuring how nice it was to have met her and politely withdrawing.
Malloy glanced down at Brian, as if she’d almost forgotten he was there. He was terribly quiet, and Sarah saw to her surprise that he’d taken a toy horse and attached it to the front of the trolley with some string. The horse was now pulling the trolley, just the way horses pulled the ones that hadn’t been electrified yet in the streets outside. Once again she marveled at how clever he was. If only he could speak and understand. If only he weren’t deaf. “It’ll come off in a couple more weeks, Francis says,” Mrs.
No, I—” “Here, sit down, you’re all wet,” Sarah said, forcing her into one of the kitchen chairs. It had been raining off and on all morning, and Mrs. Ellsworth had crossed over from her own yard without even an umbrella. Or a cloak, for that matter. And she still wore her house dress and apron. Something was terribly wrong. “Is it Nelson? ” she almost shouted. ” Chastened, Sarah pulled a towel from the peg by the sink and handed it to her before taking another of the kitchen chairs. ” “A man came to my door just now.