Death of a Gentle Lady (Hamish Macbeth, Book 23) by M. C. Beaton

By M. C. Beaton

Light through identify, mild through nature. every body within the sleepy Scottish city of Lochdubh adores aged Mrs. mild - all people yet Hamish Macbeth, that's. Hamish thinks the mild girl is sort of sly and harsh, and the electorate of Lochdubh imagine he's overly cranky. possibly it's time for him to get married, they say.

But who has time for marriage whilst there's a homicide to be solved? whilst Mrs. mild dies below mysterious conditions, town is stunned and outraged. leader Detective Inspector Blair suspects participants of her kinfolk, yet Hamish Macbeth thinks there's extra to the tale, and starts off investigating the reality at the back of this lady's light external.

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Extra resources for Death of a Gentle Lady (Hamish Macbeth, Book 23)

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I got right up in his face. He'd have backed off 'cept he was up against the death bed. I said, 'Yeah, I was sober, hadn't had a drink in months, and guess what? I got a little girl killed. Three years old, the most beautiful child you ever saw, a fucking dote, and there's me, not drinking, minding her, she goes out a top-floor window. ' He didn't have a platitude but tried, 'Life is no bowl of cherries and sometimes terrible things happen. ' I stopped, stared at him, near shouted, 'No bowl of fucking cherries?

One minute he was focused on you, then, bang, he was off again, as if one thought, one line of concentration was too much. He stood up. ' The movie Wayne's World has a lot to answer for. It was one of Cody's favourites. I had no reply to this – not then, not now. I simply nodded and he shambled off, in that half crouch young people adopt, like, who gives a fuck? A waitress began clearing the table. She held the bent Red Bull tin, pissed by it, indicated my slice of Danish. ' I had a mobile phone.

I got right up in his face. He'd have backed off 'cept he was up against the death bed. I said, 'Yeah, I was sober, hadn't had a drink in months, and guess what? I got a little girl killed. Three years old, the most beautiful child you ever saw, a fucking dote, and there's me, not drinking, minding her, she goes out a top-floor window. ' He didn't have a platitude but tried, 'Life is no bowl of cherries and sometimes terrible things happen. ' I stopped, stared at him, near shouted, 'No bowl of fucking cherries?

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