By M. C. Beaton
Agatha Raisin has constantly been ambivalent approximately vacation cheer, yet her comfortable little village of Carsely has lengthy prided itself on its Christmas festivities. yet this yr Mr. John Sunday, a selfimportant officer with the future health and safeguard Board, has governed that the normal tree on most sensible of the church is a public threat; that lampposts are damaging for striking illuminations; that could Dimwoody's selfmade toys are harmful for children... issues have reached one of these determined move that the Carsely girls' Society joins forces with the women within the neighboring village of Odley Cruesis to aim to place a cease to Mr. Sunday's meddling--only to discover that somebody has actually placed a cease to him with a kitchen knife. Agatha's detective corporation is at the case, but if a guy has made as many enemies as John Sunday, it really is difficult to grasp the place to start...
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Extra resources for Busy Body: An Agatha Raisin Mystery
She arrived at the hotel late because it took her more than an hour to find a taxi at Figari Airport. Agatha looked forward to celebrating Christmas with a lobster dinner. No more turkey. The receptionist at the hotel greeted her with, “I see you’ve booked in with us for three weeks. ” Agatha blinked. “Why? ” asked the receptionist. “Most of the shops and restaurants are closed. You don’t have a car. ” “I’ll think about it,” said Agatha wearily. “I’m hungry. ” Agatha left her luggage and set off on the steep climb up to the citadel.
Demanded a voice behind them. They both swung round. The round figure of a woman muffled up in a coat and two shawls with a woolly cap pulled down over her face stood glaring at them. “We just wanted a word with you,” said Agatha. “I am a private detective working for Miriam Courtney. ” “Oh, if you’re working for Miriam, you’d best come indoors. But leave your coats in the hall. ” She pushed past them and opened the door. The “hall” was a tiny space cluttered up with Wellington boots and coats on pegs on the wall.
The meeting is to be held in the vicarage. The vicar’s wife, Penelope Timson, is an excellent baker. ” Odley Cruesis was situated ten miles from Carsely, reached along winding roads glittering with frost. With its old Tudor thatched houses, it seemed a little part of England that time had forgotten. To Agatha’s dismay, cars were parked bumper to bumper outside the vicarage. “I’ll never be able to park,” she moaned. “Yes, you will,” said Mrs. Bloxby. ” “I’m not driving a Mini,” said Agatha. “Let me.