Murder, She Drank (The Agatha Twisty Mysteries)
By Bee Baron
Perfect for fans of Richard Osman, Verity Bright, and M.C. Beaton.
In the book village of Garth-on-Wye, nestled in a valley where the mobile signal dies and the bookshops outnumber the residents, there is a mystery bookshop called Murder, She Drank. It has a ginger cat in the reading chair, a lurid window display that scandalises the vicar, and the finest collection of detective fiction outside of London. It is the kind of place where you lose an afternoon and find a first edition. It is not the kind of place where people get killed.
When a body is discovered inside the shop, DI D’Souza and DS Finn return to the village they haven’t forgotten — the village that hasn’t forgotten them, either. Sergeant Colley is already on the scene, solid and steady, doing his best to keep the locals from contaminating the evidence and the gossip from contaminating the investigation. He will fail on at least one count.
Agatha Westmacott is 103 years old. She is not what she appears. And she has no intention of leaving this to the police.
With Grace at her side, young Emma asking questions nobody else thinks to ask, Kaveri listening to every conversation that passes through her bookshop, and the vicar of St. Jude’s keeping quiet watch over his flock, Agatha assembles her people the way she has always done — knowing exactly who to ask, exactly what to ask them, and exactly when to say nothing at all. Bombay the black cat watches from the windowsill of Kipling & Kippers with the unblinking authority of a creature who has never in his life needed permission for anything. Willow, grey-muzzled and devoted, stays close.
The cobbled streets of Garth-on-Wye smell of old paper, fresh bread, and secrets. Someone in this village has blood on their hands. Agatha means to find out whose.
Murder, She Drank is the second book in the Agatha Twisty Mysteries — a classic British cozy mystery series set in a charming book village on the Welsh borders, where every shop has a literary name, every lane hides a story, and the centenarian gardener of the grand estate on the hill sees everything, owns nearly everything, and forgets nothing.
Perfect for fans of Richard Osman, Verity Bright, and M.C. Beaton.
In the book village of Garth-on-Wye, nestled in a valley where the mobile signal dies and the bookshops outnumber the residents, there is a mystery bookshop called Murder, She Drank. It has a ginger cat in the reading chair, a lurid window display that scandalises the vicar, and the finest collection of detective fiction outside of London. It is the kind of place where you lose an afternoon and find a first edition. It is not the kind of place where people get killed.
When a body is discovered inside the shop, DI D’Souza and DS Finn return to the village they haven’t forgotten — the village that hasn’t forgotten them, either. Sergeant Colley is already on the scene, solid and steady, doing his best to keep the locals from contaminating the evidence and the gossip from contaminating the investigation. He will fail on at least one count.
Agatha Westmacott is 103 years old. She is not what she appears. And she has no intention of leaving this to the police.
With Grace at her side, young Emma asking questions nobody else thinks to ask, Kaveri listening to every conversation that passes through her bookshop, and the vicar of St. Jude’s keeping quiet watch over his flock, Agatha assembles her people the way she has always done — knowing exactly who to ask, exactly what to ask them, and exactly when to say nothing at all. Bombay the black cat watches from the windowsill of Kipling & Kippers with the unblinking authority of a creature who has never in his life needed permission for anything. Willow, grey-muzzled and devoted, stays close.
The cobbled streets of Garth-on-Wye smell of old paper, fresh bread, and secrets. Someone in this village has blood on their hands. Agatha means to find out whose.