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'Well, that's a nasty thing to have on your breakfast-tray, I'm sure,' Mrs Cloud said. 'What do you want with that?' 'My husband gave it to me long ago. He taught me to use it; I've just been trying my hand. I'm a good shot still.' 'Well I never! Where have you been shooting may I ask?' 'Down at the bottom of the garden.' 'Fancy.' Mrs Cloud clicked her tongue in the same way that she clicked it when she was shocked by something she saw at the cinema. 'Well, I never. What next, I wonder.' 'So do I,' Margaret said grimly.
To Miss Maiden the mysterious Mr Aladdin, with his Persian origins, his charm and his flavour of the exotic East, appeared like the answer to a prayer. It was perhaps odd that anybody should be called Mr Aladdin, but it was even odder that Miss Maiden did not enquire more deeply into Mr Aladdin's past. Had she done so, she almost certainly would not have allowed him to help her in the management of her business affairs, and she might have avoided her macabre fate.
A splendid war record in Naval intelligence and a disastrous marriage left Martin Pendle Hill alone, leading an uneventful life in a pleasant Oxford upper maisonette. He had a good friend and a black Labrador as a companion. But when both these die, Pendle Hill accidently falls and breaks his thigh in his distress. The accident sparks a change of heart and after sixty-five years he decides he is going to live dangerously. Without permission from his stern landlady in the flat downstairs he fills his life with bright young people by taking in lodgers. Meanwhile, his landlady has embarked upon a plan for her old age, which has within it the seeds of disaster. 'Done with indefinable, inimitable warmth that characterises Fleming; this one's a joy' San Francisco Chronicle
Nuri Bey saw something floating towards him on the current. It appeared to be something in a boat, some cross-shaped object. He approached more closely as it bobbed and bowed with the tide. What he thought he saw was too fantastic to be believed: the mast of the small water-logged fishing boat formed the upright of a cross - and on it hung a naked man. A traditional Turkish method of dealing with an enemy ... 'Pleasingly offbeat' Observer 'Wit and humour - a real piece of Turkish delight' BBC
A psychopath's accidental murder of an elderly woman is the catalyst for a crime spree in 1970s London. Winner of the British Crime Writers' Association's Gold Dagger Award for Best Novel.
After twenty years as a bank clerk, Leslie Williams can stand the daily round no longer. He plans a crime - nothing very heinous, nothing more than a little dishonesty and a lot of unkindness. Yet, once he has made the first fatal move, he finds himself gathered into a fantastic web of adventure, mischance and danger. The story takes place in London: the seedy hotel in Cromwell Road and the open-air market where he finds work as a salesman. And Leslie Williams is a man who has broken loose, who doesn't know quite what dangers are hunting him from the past, or what sense can be made of the present or future ... 'Imaginative, lively and picaresque' Maurice Richardson
Madrid, Spain 2019. The end of the UN Climate Change Conference--another moral failure on the part of those who could have made change. I go back to the labour union hall that all the activist groups have been using as a headquarters to help with the clean-up. There are only a few of us left. I take on the communal kitchen and bin heads of broccoli gone to dusty seed and half-used jars of slimy lima beans. I wash towers of greasy plastic cups with cold water and floor cleaner, because that's all there is. The door to the room that held the expensive sound equipment has been broken--no, not just broken, but thoroughly smashed. There is talk of a missing key, something lost in translation. The...
When Mr Stanroyd is found hanged in his own mill, his three young daughters are forced to realise that they are now mill-owners, a position quite unbecoming to a Victorian young lady. The eldest, the enchanting and redoubtable Severel, confides her hopes and fears - and the strange course of events - to her diary. Who killed whom? Which of the three girls married? Which of them was so shocked that she was deprived of speech? What happened to Uncle Eli and to raffish Cousin Bertie from Australia? Who was raped by whom? And who hanged dear Papa? 'Very rumbustious and buoyant' Scotsman
Brigadier Basil Patricott, presently engaged on hush hush business for the foreign office, is a man able to cope with anything - except his two small motherless sons. As a result they run wild in the company of an eccentric Irish pigeon fancier, living with his sinister brother in a house of mysterious locked doors. Then one of the boys goes exploring, and what he sees behind those doors marks him down for immediate death. 'She has the gift of creating instantly credible characters' Sunday Times 'Twists and turns all over the place' Observer
When Robert Escrick, the former chairman of the family firm, decides to disappear because the company is being taken over, he retires early, changes his name and sets off for Cornwall, accompanied by his dog Banjo. His wife won't notice he's gone, and he's had a house built for him in preparation. But there is a young woman waiting for him there, locked in a bathroom and claiming to have been raped, and the locals take her part against the newcomer. Then she is found murdered, and reality starts closing in on the retreat Robert has escaped to ...