Aunt Dimity and the Next of Kin (Aunt Dimity Mystery)
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The next page-turning installment in the phantom-detective mystery series that has won the hearts of cozy mystery fans everywhere
Feeling a touch world-weary, Lori Shepherd decides to become a volunteer at the Radcliffe Infirmary, where she can spread a little good cheer. There she meets Elizabeth Beacham, a kind, retired legal secretary with no family, except a brother who has mysteriously disappeared. But after only a few visits, Miss Beacham suddenly passes away, leaving Lori to tie up the loose ends of her late friend's life. Lori soon discovers that hidden among Miss Beacham's belongings are clues that Lori believes her friend left for her to discover. Armed with the generous help of a handsome neighbor and, as always, Aunt Dimity's supernatural skills, Lori begins to unearth Miss Beacham's secrets and, ultimately, the surprising truth about her next of kin.
?Atherton's series is for those who like the puzzle of a mystery minus the corpses. . . . Put on the teakettle and enjoy.? ?"Rocky Mountain News"
?A charming mystery, filled with warmth and affection.? ?"Deadly Pleasures"
comes to locating next of kin, lawyers are like bloodhounds.” Bill smiled. “Hungry? Leek-and-potato soup’s on the lunch menu.” “Fill a bowl for me,” I told him. “I’ll join you in a minute. And by the way . . .” I crossed to sit on the ottoman at his knee, looked up into his brown eyes, and said, very seriously, “If you decide to pop off, I want fair warning, okay? None of this kicking the bucket before I get a chance to tell you how much I love you. No leaving without saying good-bye. Is that
both at her memorial service,” I said. “If it ever takes place.” Gabriel grasped the gate’s wrought-iron bars and shook them, as though venting his frustration. “Blast the woman! Why was she so tight-lipped about herself? How could she know so much about so many people, yet reveal so little about her own life? Mehta, Formby, Carrington-Smith, Chalmers—we can check four names off of Miss Beacham’s list, yet we’re no closer to finding Kenneth now than we were when we set out.” “We won’t get any
tailored and he had excellent taste in ties.” “He must have been fairly well off,” I commented. “Presumably,” said Joanna. “He came to the office at least twice a week, to lunch with Elizabeth at Woolery’s. They were obviously fond of each other, always finishing each other’s sentences and laughing at the same jokes, the way brothers and sisters do. It went on like that for several months until, without warning, it stopped. Kenneth stopped coming round. I never saw him again. I’ve always
helmeted and booted, feeding carrots to Toby; my sons gazing down on their hearts’ desires with the light of heaven in their eyes. My knees wobbled as the high-octane maternal adrenaline drained from my body, and I leaned limply against Kit. “Surprise!” he said. “Any more surprises like that and I’ll need a heart transplant,” I said weakly. “Does Bill know about the ponies?” “He will in a moment,” said Kit. I looked up and saw Bill walking toward the arena, with Emma on his arm. “It’s a
their tummies, munching raisin bread and drawing portraits of Thunder, Storm, and dear old Toby. Ms. Carrington-Smith sat beside Tina Formby, who wore an extraordinary black dress with see-through sleeves and leather inserts, presumably of her own design. Mr. and Mrs. Formby, Mr. Blascoe, Mr. Jensen, Mrs. Chalmers, and Mrs. Chalmers’s father—whose pink face glowed with good health—filled the rest of the pew. Nurse Willoughby was there, too, seated toward the rear of the church, with Julian