By Rebecca Tope
Undertaker Drew Slocombe isn't having a very good day. His enterprise is failing, the auto wishes an MOT (safety inspection) and he’s riding one hundred twenty miles to the Cotswolds to hold out the overdue Greta Simmonds’ ultimate needs. regrettably, whilst he will get there, a string of bureaucratic error signifies that he’s now the executive suspect of a homicide inquiry. He’s starting to want he had by no means heard of Greta Simmonds. Thea Osborne and her unswerving spaniel Hepzie are nonetheless pursuing their profession as house-sitters, regardless of the disastrous incidents of the prior. in the intervening time they're staying in Greta Simmonds’ apartment, that's at present among possession. Thea is torn among relocating again domestic or expecting the execution of the need. in spite of everything, she does have striking funds due. Then the invention of a physique in a close-by box takes the choice out of Thea’s palms, and she or he reveals herself embroiled in a homicide research once more. Having befriended the police’s simply suspect, Drew Slocombe, Thea believes him to be blameless. As Thea and Drew interact to transparent his identify, it slowly dawns on them that during a village simmering with secrets and techniques, a way and a rationale should be laid at anybody’s door.
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Additional resources for A Grave in the Cotswolds
The bond between them was seldom openly acknowledged by any of us. It was simply taken for granted as one element in our lives. ‘Don’t bank on it, Tim,’ I cautioned. ‘She’s only just got back from holiday, and she’ll have a lot to do. I think we’ll just have a lazy weekend. ’ Neither child manifested any enthusiasm for my suggestion. Chapter Three It was nine-thirty on Saturday morning when a sharp rap sounded on the front door. We almost didn’t hear it because Timothy was shouting and Stephanie had the TV on far too loud.
Maggs would handle any phone calls or visits to the office. It was Friday, and although my life hardly followed the normal working pattern, there was still the general air of relaxation, if only because we could forget about school uniforms and packed lunches for a couple of days. It was over three years since Karen had come home from hospital, pale and fearful after being shot in the head at close range. Nothing vital had been destroyed, and at first the doctors had assured us that her periods of blankness and problems with eating and sleeping were the result of trauma, rather than physical damage.
I smiled. ‘Actually no, hardly at all. ’ She meant it literally – not in a nasty way, but giving me permission to save my breath, if that’s what I preferred. I saw her looking around at the people in the field. She had the air of a person slowly coming to understand that her role was over, the last line delivered, and all that remained was to leave. The Talbots had begun to get into their somewhat elderly BMW, apart from the boy nephew who was hanging back as if wanting time alone. I wondered fleetingly about his bike and where he would go on it.
A Grave in the Cotswolds by Rebecca Tope