She poured herself a stiff gin and looked at the empty quiche box in the bin. Retirement was turning out to be much more work than she had anticipated.
As the police sirens wailed toward her cottage, Agatha realized two things. First, her social standing in the village was officially ruined. Second, she was going to have to find the real killer just to prove she was a fraud, not a murderer. Agatha Raisin Y La Quiche Letal M C Beaton ...
Agatha beamed, already imagining where she would place the trophy. She won, of course. She endured the polite, slightly strained applause of the village ladies, clutching her prize like a shield. The triumph lasted exactly until the following morning. She poured herself a stiff gin and looked
The next morning, the village hall was stiflingly hot and filled with the scent of butter and judgment. Agatha watched as the judge, Reg Cummings, took a generous slice of her entry. He chewed slowly, his eyes widening. "Superb," he whispered. First, her social standing in the village was