Bunburry - Murder in High Places

Produktdetails

Verlag

Bastei Entertainment

Erschienen

2019

Sprache

English

Seiten

111

Infos

111 Seiten
ab 16 Jahre

ISBN

978-3-7325-5526-0

Kurztext / Annotation

Miss Marple meets Oscar Wilde in this new series of cosy mysteries set in the picturesque Cotswolds village of Bunburry.

In 'Murder in High Places', the sixth Bunburry book, Oscar will brave the Cotswolds for the first time! Alfie has tried for months to convince his best friend to visit him - but when a glamorous High Society Party in honour of celebrated actor Dorian Stevens is announced, Oscar just can't resist. He is - after all - Dorian's greatest fan and can't wait to meet his hero. But the evening at the lovely Saville mansion takes a murderous turn ...

Helena Marchmont is a pseudonym of Olga Wojtas, who was born and brought up in Edinburgh. She was encouraged to write by an inspirational English teacher, Iona M. Cameron. Olga won a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award in 2015, has had more than 30 short stories published in magazines and anthologies and recently published her first mystery Miss Blaine's Prefect and the Golden Samovar.

Textauszug

1. Pride and Prejudice in the Cotswolds

"Alfie McAlister!" The petite white-haired lady stared at him through her oversized glasses. "You mean to say you've never visited David Savile in his mansion? I thought you two were friends."

"We are. He just prefers meeting up in Bunburry. He's very fond of our cream teas."

Marge Redwood changed her expression from surprise to disapproval. "Judging by his waistline, he's very fond of anyone's cream teas."

"Come now," protested Liz. "Not everybody is blessed with your metabolism, and I think the cuddly look suits him."

"Just as well, given the amount of your fudge he's just ordered."

"And we have Alfie to thank for that," said Liz. "Alfie dear, it was very good of you to recommend us to him. It's given such a boost to the business. He serves it at all his dinner parties-"

"And now all his posh acquaintances are ordering it as well," interrupted Marge, easing herself off the rocking chair and going to the lace-covered table to retrieve the teapot. "You wouldn't believe the mileage I'm putting in, delivering it all over the place. Top-up, Alfie?"

"Thanks." He held out the china cup decorated with roses. It always felt very genteel to take tea with Liz and Marge. "I'm sorry if I've given you a lot of extra bother."

"Pay no attention to Margaret," said Liz, bringing over the milk jug and adding a splash to his tea. "She's never happier than when she's complaining. I love making the fudge, and my business manager here is really quite thrilled with how well we're doing - you should see the way her little face lights up when she does the accounts these days."

"I scarcely have time to do the accounts with all the driving," Marge muttered.

"We could always send it via the Royal Mail," said Liz.

"We're a local business, and it always pays to have the personal touch," said Marge.

"And you adore the driving."

Marge had the grace to look slightly contrite. "I do," she admitted. "Alfie, that car you bought me runs like a dream. It was so generous of you - I wouldn't have got more than a tenner from the insurance for my old one."

He brushed away her thanks. "A pleasure. I'm glad you like it." Despite the increased success of the ladies' fudge business, he suspected they didn't have over-much disposable income. Marge had already moved in with Liz so that they didn't have the expense of two separate homes, and could share costs.

Alfie had grown up in a single-parent household in London's East End, and knew all about being short of cash. He still couldn't quite believe he was now a multi-millionaire following the sale of his start-up. And he had had the harshest of lessons that money didn't buy happiness.

But now, a year after Vivian's death, he realised he was having more good days than bad. And the ladies had played a key part in that.

"I'm amazed you still haven't seen David Savile's mansion." Marge returned to her theme. "I would have thought you would have insisted, now that it's a local celebrity."

"His house is a local celebrity?" asked Alfie, bemused.

"It was on all the posters for the film."

Alfie turned to Liz in the hope of getting some sensible information. "Film?"

"The new Pride and Prejudice," Liz explained. "The one that came out last year and is supposed to be the best version ever."

"It is," Marge asserted. "I always thought nothing could be better than the BBC version with Colin Firth as Mr Darcy - remember that moment when he appeared in the wet shirt? But seeing Dorian Stevens with no shirt at all ..." She gave a lingering sigh.

"Really, Marge," said Liz. "You don't want people to think you're one of those leopard ladies, you know, the ones who chase after young men."

Marge rolled her eyes despairingly. "Clarissa. I've told you time and time again. The word is

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