Trouble in the Churchyard by Emily Organ

 Trouble in the Churchyard

Trouble in the Churchyard by Emily Organ(Churchill and Pemberley #4)
English | 2020 | Mystery/Thriller Cozy | ePUB | 3.1 MB

A grave matter for detective duo Churchill and Pemberley.

Who’s been tampering with the graves in St Swithun’s churchyard? Elderly detectives Annabel Churchill and Doris Pemberley are asked to investigate by Mr Grieves the sinister sexton. Meanwhile the sleepy English village of Compton Poppleford is rocked by the murder of its favourite philanthropist, Mr Butterfork. Who could have possibly wished to harm him?

When the murderer leaves clues in the churchyard, Churchill and Pemberley are keen to solve the case. But Churchill finds herself distracted by the charms of debonair Mr Pickwick and his art gallery. A night-time fright in the churchyard brings her to her senses and the aging detective duo are soon convinced of their suspect. The trouble is, they could be completely mistaken…

For fans of light-hearted mysteries and sharp-witted elderly sleuths.

You were extremely lucky that Oswald’s latest victim was a true gentleman, Pembers,” muttered Churchill once Mr Pickwick had gone on his way. “That dog could have got us into a nasty scrape there.”

“Most people are very understanding when it comes to dogs,” replied Pemberley.

“Well-behaved dogs, perhaps, but not many people would have been so accommodating if a scruffy little mongrel had gobbled up their lunch.”

“He’s not a mongrel! He’s a Spanish water dog.”

“With a few other breeds mixed in.”

“A touch of terrier and a splash of spaniel.”

“And a gallon of mischief.” Churchill patted the little dog’s head affectionately. “Now then, I suppose we’d better go and spend the shillings Mr Butterfork gave us. Why on earth is the man so generous, Pembers? It makes me rather suspicious, if truth be told.”

“There’s no need to be suspicious of dear old Mr Butterfork. He’s a lovely man.”

“You do realise when you describe him as ‘dear old’ that he’s about twenty years younger than us.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“It certainly seems that way. Still, I’ve always been a little suspicious of people who like to splash their money around. It’s as though they have something to prove.”

“Perhaps they’re simply trying to prove they’re generous people.”

“There’s generous and then there’s generous, Pembers.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“I’m not sure, but I do feel sure that Mr Butterfork is a bit of a funny one.”

The pair began to peruse the nearby stalls with Oswald safely tethered to his lead.

“I’d like to buy some of Mrs Roseball’s damson jam while we’re here,” said Pemberley.

“You do that. It sounds delightful.”

The two ladies walked up to a stall showcasing numerous jars of jam topped with patterned fabric tied in place with colourful ribbon.

“Well, these do look quite splendid,” said Churchill.

A small, round lady with oval spectacles and a large straw hat stood behind the table.

“Hello, Mrs Roseball,” said Pemberley. “I don’t believe you’ve met Mrs Churchill, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” replied Mrs Roseball, squinting at Churchill through her thick lenses. Pemberley introduced the two ladies and they all exchanged pleasantries.

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