By Cecilia Peartree
This can be the 7th e-book within the Pitkirtly sequence of comfortable mysteries, set in a fictitious small city at the coast of Fife.
When the tv programme Open Kitchen involves city, there are lots of reactions from the folk of Pitkirtly. Jemima is pleased of the chance to teach off her baking talents, whereas Amaryllis seems to be ahead to the mayhem which may consequence from a 'healthy eating' procession, and Christopher is aghast while he unearths his ex-wife engaged on the venture.
But they don't anticipate homicide to be at the menu.
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Additional info for A Tasteful Crime (Pitkirtly Mysteries, Book 7)
No, no, no! ” And then a dawning. “Ah! ” A look of dead certainty. ” And the face turns sweet and warm. “Oh, you look like him. In the smile, especially. ” Frank has a list of names in his head, speciﬁc people with memories of Arturo, and we ride from home to workshop, from workshop to storefront. ” Between each stop there is Frank, shouting his questions about the killing over his shoulder and into the wind. We are still young men, faintly embarrassed by our fascination with bloodshed and guns.
The Generalissimo had suggested that the order be reversed. Well, there was always the beach. Art had received his assignment to Azua less than a week after his arrival in the republic and had reached the town at night on October 13, 1960. His room was in the parish house just a few feet from the sacristy, and it wasn’t until morning that he could get a sense of Azua itself: a dusty town of farm and ranch workers who walked the streets with pistols or machetes hanging from their belts; of women who sat on stoops, shelling hard beans.
And the sound: sheet metal being dragged across polished concrete? It carries in through the open shutters above the bed, along with a breeze that is unusually cool. Sometime in the night, I realize, I have pulled on a dirty T-shirt. At last I place the source of the noise. Guinea fowl greeting the dawn. This isn’t Santo Domingo. Yes. Right. The convent. I’m in the Padre Arturo Educational Centre in San José de Ocoa, a town spoken of simply as Ocoa. Sister Mary Joseph Mazzerolle, known as la madre, the mother, has o¤ered me a bed in the visitors’ dorm.