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The Man in The Queue

By Josephine Tey

Pocket/Washington Square Press, 1977-04-01. Paperback. Good. 0671435248 Mass Market Paperback, . G. Lite wear, creases otherwise a solid unmarked copy.

$2.99

The Last Flowers by Barrett, Michael by Barrett, Michael

By Barrett, Michael

Farrar Straus & Cudahy, 1957-01-01. Hardcover. Very Good. 250 pages, d/j has chip at top spine and small chips at the corners closed tear top bac also sunned some. Very good book in very good dust jacket

$6.44

The Grilling Season
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The Grilling Season

By Davidson, Diane Mott

Bantam, 1997-09-02. Hardcover. Very Good. 0553100009 Clean, tight and unmarked. Slight tear to upper part of dustjacket. Caterer and amateur detective Goldy Schulz is at it again in this tasty treat of a novel. Although catering two events more different than a hockey party (complete with the guests chasing pucks on blades) and a decorous breakfast for a doll collectors' convention would be hard to imagine, Goldy manages each with aplomb, Goalies Grilled Tuna and Babsie's Tarts included. While this would be plenty for anyone's plate, Goldy is also trying to decide whether she wants her abusive ex-husband arrested for his current girlfriend's murder. Certainly Goldy is perfectly willing to believe that the Jerk (as Davidson's fans know she has dubbed her former spouse, John Richard Korman) could have done the loathsome deed in one of his violent moments, but she is torn by the desire both to see him brought to justice and for their son not to have a convicted killer for a father. So, between letting the pizza dough rise and baking treasures such as Chocolate Comfort Cookies, Goldy sets out to make sure the police have indeed got the right man.Davidson's fans will recognize the pattern while new readers will relish her witty, recipe-filled, searing plot. Old friends (all of whom suitably appreciate good food) make their reappearance, including Korman's other ex, Marla, and Goldy's shrimp-peeling husband Tom. While apprentice Julian Teller has left for his restaurant management degree at Cornell, his place in the plot is filled with the more lethargic--if equally good-natured--Maguire Perkins. New characters revolve around the murder itself: Korman's predictably shapely assistant Ree Ann and the very serious doll collectors play a role, as do the administrators of the health maintenance organization Korman has joined. A pleasure to read, even if Goldy's imaginative concoctions make you hungry long before mealtime. --K.A. Crouch --This text refers to the Mass Market Paperback edition.From Library JournalDavidson, known for her skillful writing and the mouth-watering recipes concocted by her series sleuth, Goldy Schulzas, serves up a tale of murder and love gone rotten.

$2.99

Max Trueblood and the Jersey Desperado
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Max Trueblood and the Jersey Desperado

By White, Teri

Mysterious Pr, 1987-06-01. Hardcover. Very Good. 0892962534 228 pages, bvook has remainder mark top page edges and it is a little cocked. From Publishers WeeklyMax Trueblood is the best hit man in the business. Jeremiah Donahue (the "Jersey desperado" of the title) is a foot soldier in the organized crime syndicate run by Raphael Tadzio. The latter wants Trueblood dead and, impressed by Donahue's moxie and ambition, picks him for the task. Unfortunately, Donahue has never "iced" anyone before and accidentally befriends Trueblood as the hit man is in the middle of the latest "job." This presents an interesting problem for Donahue: should he kill his friend, or let him live and run the risk of getting both of them killed by Tadzio's vengeful henchmen? Other characters include two cops, one old, one young, who are marvelous foils for the two outlaws, developing something like a friendship with them. White (Tightrope, etc.) tells an exciting and unusual story and, moreover, modulates the tension with humor and wit.

$2.99

The Verona passamezzo
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The Verona passamezzo

By Gollin, James

Published for the Crime Club by Doubleday, 01/01/85 12:00 AM. Hardcover. Very Good. Ex-Library hardcover with dj in very nice condition with all the usual markings and attachments. Text block clean and unmarked. Tight binding.

$3.78

Random death
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Random death

By Egan, Lesley

Published for the Crime Club by Doubleday, 1982-01-01. Hardcover. Acceptable. 038517862X Fair/Good c. 1982, red bds. w/price clipped d.j., 182pp., (shelf wear, paperclip indention to first few pages, some staining inside front cover, dj. taped to bds., soiled)

$2.99

Dreamland
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Dreamland

By Lorens, M.K

Doubleday, 1992-04-01. Hardcover. Very Good. Ex-Library hardcover with dj in very nice condition with all the usual markings and attachments.

$11.44

Bad Blood
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Bad Blood

By Carlson, P.M

Doubleday & Company, Inc, 1991-11-01. Hardcover. Very Good. Ex-Library hardcover with dj in very nice condition with all the usual markings and attachments. Text block clean and unmarked. Tight binding.

$2.99

Death of a Moffy
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Death of a Moffy

By O'Hara, Kenneth

Doubleday, 1987-12-01. Hardcover. Very Good. Ex-Library hardcover with dj in very nice condition with all the usual markings and attachments. Text block clean and unmarked. Tight binding.

$10.58

THREE COMPLETE NOVELS, WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY, STILLWATCH, by CLARK, MARY HIGGINS by CLARK, MARY HIGGINS

By CLARK, MARY HIGGINS

Wings Books, New York, 1991. Very Good. Three Complete Novels: Weep No More, My Lady, Stillwatch, A Cry In The Night. Author: Mary Higgins Clark. Wings Books, New York, 1991. Hardcover book with dustjacket, 598 pages. VG/VG. Previous owner's name/address sticker is attached to the front endpaper, otherwise this is a very good copy. Fiction/Mystery/Horror/Thriller.

$7.75

STAR FLIGHT by WHITNEY, PHYLLIS A. by WHITNEY, PHYLLIS A

By WHITNEY, PHYLLIS A

Crown Publishers,Inc., New York, First Edition, 1993. Very Good. Crown Publishers,Inc., New York, First Edition, 1993. Hardcover book with dustjacket, 283 pages. VG+/VG+. Fiction/Mystery.

$6.90

JAZZ FUNERAL by SMITH, JULIE by SMITH, JULIE

By SMITH, JULIE

Fawcett Columbine, New York, First Edition, 1993. Very Good. Jazz Funeral, A Skip Langdon Novel. Author: Julie Smith. Fawcett Columbine, New York, First Edition, 1993. Hardcover book with dustjacket, 365 pages. VG/VG. Fiction/Mystery.

$7.32

R is for Ricochet (Kinsey Millhone Mystery)
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R is for Ricochet (Kinsey Millhone Mystery)

By Grafton, Sue

G. P. Putnam's Sons, 2004-07-08. Hardcover. Like New. 0399152288 When wealthy octogenarian Nord Lafferty hires Kinsey Millhone to help his newly paroled daughter find her way back to the straight and narrow after doing time for embezzlement, the Santa Teresa P.I. has no idea what she's getting into. Reba Lafferty's ex-boss, land developer Alan Beckwith, is the man who sent her to prison--so how come she's meeting him just hours after her release, and treating Kinsey to an X-rated reunion scene played out in his parked Mercedes? And why is he also playing sex games with Reba's formerly best friend, who still works for him? A visit from an old friend from the FBI clears up the mystery--Beckwith is suspected of running a money-laundering game, and they need Reba to make their case by rolling over on him. It?s not until Millhone presents Reba with photographic evidence of Beckwith's two-timing that she agrees to do what the Feds want... but she'll only do it her way, which could get a lot of people killed. Grafton fleshes out this well-crafted thriller with a romantic subplot involving a romantic triangle that features Kinsey's elderly landlord Henry, his brother, and a vivacious widow who can't seem to choose between them. It doesn't add much to the plot, but the fans of this evergreen series (who must be wondering what will happen to Millhone when Grafton gets to the end of the alphabet) probably won't mind a bit. --Jane Adams From Publishers Weekly Bestseller Grafton offers more of the same-old same-old in her less-than-inspired 18th Kinsey Millhone novel (after 2002's Q Is for Quarry). In this sexy adventure, the spunky hard-boiled detective has to escort the newly paroled Reba Lafferty, privileged ne'er-do-well, to her stately home, keeping her on the straight and narrow. Reba challenges the PI with her barely concealed hankerings for the now off-limits booze, gambling and charming Alan Beckwith, married real estate developer and former employer for whom Reba took a two-year barbwire vacation courtesy of the California Institution for Women. Lust is in the air as studly, stylish cop Cheney Phillips enters in his red Mercedes, fanning the flames with Kinsey, when Beckwith's activities catch the eye of the feds. Kinsey lends a supportive ear to her beloved 87-year-old landlord, smitten by a 70-year-old neighbor. Kinsey and Reba team up to get the goods on Beckwith, but reckless Reba has vengeful ideas of her own and more than once lands their collective fat in the fire. If the chemistry between Cheney and Kinsey seems forced at times, Grafton as usual creates believable and enduring characters and a strong sense of place in her town of Santa Teresa circa 1987. And that should be more than enough for most fans. Copyright ? Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. From School Library Journal Adult/High School?Kinsey has been hired by a wealthy father to befriend his daughter upon her release from prison after serving a sentence for embezzling funds from her boyfriend/employer. It sounds easy, but the detective learns quickly that Reba's boss is still involved in a complex money-laundering scheme and is wanted by many federal law-enforcement agencies who want Reba to help them get evidence against him. Eventually she does, but there are problems leading to the exciting climax when the sleuth herself is kidnapped. Kinsey is young enough to appeal to teens; her lighthearted personality and witty asides amuse and entertain. Fans of this series will be pleased that she has a new boyfriend, but may be frustrated because her elderly landlord's family interferes.?Claudia Moore, W. T. Woodson High School, Fairfax, VA Copyright ? Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. From AudioFile In the latest Kinsey Millhone mystery, Kinsey is hired by an aged, wealthy man to retrieve his daughter from prison, where she has served time for embezzlement. Kinsey quickly figures out that the girl isn't an embezzler but instead has done time for her money-laundering boss. All heck breaks loose. Judy Kaye has a warm, rich voice that seems just right for Grafton's P.I. Her delivery mirrors the smart-aleck tenor of much of Kinsey's dialogue. Strangely though, when Kaye is interpreting a male character (and there are many), she raises her voice to a higher register, so that many of the men sound like adolescents with changing voices, or worse, like chipmunks. It may be Kaye's subtle social comment, though. For once the listener adapts, this odd gender reversal seems natural. R.E.K. ? AudioFile 2004, Portland, Maine-- Copyright ? AudioFile, Portland, Maine --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From Booklist "R" could be for "rocking chair" in the latest Kinsey Millhone, which doesn't so much imitate the action of a bullet bouncing off bone as offer a leisurely treatise on thwarted love. This is not an especially fast-moving Grafton. That won't bother the series' many fans, however, as there is plenty devoted to exploring the character of Millhone herself, still living in a converted garage, still driving her VW, still (improbably) without any female friends, but here with a nicely charged return to an impossible affair. There is far too much ink spent on describing such matters as Kinsey making popcorn or jogging or chatting endlessly with her landlord. Even these unnecessary asides are somewhat compensated for by Kinsey's acerbic wit and wry self-reflections. The action itself revolves around Kinsey's assignment to escort and watch over a bad-girl heiress, just released from jail. The heiress is soon back in trouble, back in the arms of the guy she went to prison for, and back under investigation. The local cops want Kinsey to spy on the jailbird with whom she's developing a friendship; the feds get in on the act, too. Maybe the most interesting bits of this sleepy novel are the heiress' descriptions of prison life; they are far too detailed to be believable as normal conversation but intriguing nonetheless. An uneven, lackadaisical Grafton, but plenty of Millhone for the sleuth's devotees. Connie Fletcher Copyright ? American Library Association. All rights reserved Romantic Times, July 2004 Grafton has done her usual superlative job with one of mystery fans' favorite females. Welcome back, Kinsey! People, August 9, 2004 [Grafton's] dialogue is deliciously zingy and Reba is a marvelous character... Book Description Reba Lafferty was a daughter of privilege. Abandoned by her rebellious mother when she was an infant, she was the only child of a rich man already in his mid-fifties when she was born, and her adoring father thoroughly spoiled her. Now, at thirty-two, having had many scrapes with the law, she is about to be released on probation from the California Institution for Women, having served twenty-two months of a four-year sentence for embezzlement. Though Nord Lafferty could deny his daughter nothing, he wasn't there for her when she was brought up on this charge. Now he wants to be sure she stays straight, stays at home and away from the drugs, the booze, the gamblers. It seems a straightforward assignment for Kinsey: babysit Reba until she settles in, make sure she follows all the niceties of her parole. Maybe a week's work. Nothing untoward-the woman seems remorseful and friendly. And the money is good. But life is never that simple, and Reba is out of prison less than twenty- four hours when one of her old crowd comes circling round. R is for Ricochet. And R is for romance: love gone right, love gone wrong, and matters somewhere in between. Excerpt. ? Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1 The basic question is this: given human nature, are any of us really capable of change? The mistakes other people make are usually patently obvious. Our own are tougher to recognize. In most cases, our path through life reflects a fundamental truth about who we are now and who we've been since birth. We're optimists or pessimists, joyful or depressed, gullible or cynical, inclined to seek adventure or to avoid all risks. Therapy might strengthen our assets or offset our liabilities, but in the main we do what we do because we've always done it that way, even when the outcome is bad...perhaps especially when the outcome is bad. This is a story about romance-love gone right, love gone wrong, and matters somewhere in between. I left downtown Santa Teresa that day at 1:15 and headed for Montebello, a short ten miles south. The weather report had promised highs in the seventies. Morning cloudiness had given way to sunshine, a welcomed respite from the overcast that typically mars our June and July. I'd eaten lunch at my desk, feasting on an olive-and-pimiento-cheese sandwich on wheat bread, cut in quarters, my third-favorite sandwich in the whole wide world. So what was the problem? I had none. Life was great. In committing the matter to paper, I can see now what should have been apparent from the first, but events seemed to unfold at such a routine pace that I was caught, metaphorically speaking, asleep at the wheel. I'm a private detective, female, age thirty-seven, working in the small Southern California town of Santa Teresa. My jobs are varied, not always lucrative, but sufficient to keep me housed and fed and ahead of my bills. I do employee background checks. I track down missing persons or locate heirs entitled to monies in the settlement of an estate. On occasion, I investigate claims involving arson, fraud, or wrongful death. In my personal life, I've been married and divorced twice, and subsequent relationships have usually come to grief. The older I get, the less I seem to understand men, and because of that I tend to shy away from them. Granted, I have no sex life to speak of, but at least I'm not plagued by unwanted pregnancies or sexually transmitted diseases. I've learned the hard way that love and work are a questionable mix. I was driving on a stretch of highway once known as the Montebello Parkway, built in 1927 as the result of a fund-raising campaign that made possible the creation of frontage roads and landscaped center dividers still in evidence today. Because billboards and commercial structures along the roadway were banned at the same time, that section of the 101 is still attractive, except when it's jammed with rush-hour traffic. Montebello itself underwent a similar transformation in 1948, when the Montebello Protective and Improvement Association successfully petitioned to eliminate sidewalks, concrete curbs, advertising signs, and anything else that might disrupt the rural atmosphere. Montebello is known for its two-hundred-some-odd luxury estates, many of them built by men who'd amassed their fortunes selling common household goods, salt and flour being two. I was on my way to meet Nord Lafferty, an elderly gentleman, whose photograph appeared at intervals in the society column of the Santa Teresa Dispatch. This was usually occasioned by his making yet another sizable contribution to some charitable foundation. Two buildings at UCST had been named for him, as had a wing of Santa Teresa Hospital and a special collection of rare books he'd donated to the public library. He'd called me two days before and indicated he had "a modest undertaking" he wanted to discuss. I was curious how he'd come by my name and even more curious about the job itself. I've been a private investigator in Santa Teresa for the past ten years, but my office is small and, as a rule, I'm ignored by the wealthy, who seem to prefer doing business through their attorneys in New York, Chicago, or L.A. I took the St. Isadore off-ramp and turned north toward the foothills that ran between Montebello and the Los Padres National Forest. At one time, this area boasted grand old resort hotels, citrus and avocado ranches, olive groves, a country store, and the Montebello train depot, which serviced the Southern Pacific Railroad. I'm forever reading up on local history, trying to imagine the region as it was 125 years ago. Land was selling then for seventy-five cents an acre. Montebello is still bucolic, but much of the charm has been bulldozed away. What's been erected instead-the condominiums, housing developments, and the big flashy starter castles of the nouveau riche-is poor compensation for what was lost or destroyed. I turned right on West Glen and drove along the winding two-lane road as far as Bella Sera Place. Bella Sera is lined with olive and pepper trees, the narrow blacktop climbing gradually to a mesa that affords a sweeping view of the coast. The pungent scent of the ocean faded with my ascent, replaced by the smell of sage and the bay laurel trees. The hillsides were thick with yarrow, wild mustard, and California poppies. The afternoon sun had baked the boulders to a golden turn, and a warm chuffing wind was beginning to stir the dry grasses. The road wound upward through an alley of live oaks that terminated at the entrance to the Lafferty estate. The property was surrounded by a stone wall that was eight feet high and posted with No Trespassing signs. I slowed to an idle when I reached the wide iron gates. I leaned out and pushed the call button on a mounted keypad. Belatedly I spotted a camera mounted atop one of two stone pillars, its hollow eye fixed on me. I must have passed inspection because the gates swung open at a measured pace. I shifted gears and sailed through, following the brick-paved drive for another quarter of a mile. Through a picket fence of pines, I caught glimpses of a gray stone house. When the whole of the residence finally swept into view, I let out a breath. Something of the past remained after all. Four towering eucalyptus trees laid a dappled shade on the grass, and a breeze pushed a series of cloud-shaped shadows across the red tile roof. The two-story house, with matching one-story wings topped with stone balustrades at each end, dominated my visual field. A series of four arches shielded the entrance and provided a covered porch on which wicker furniture had been arranged. I counted twelve windows on the second floor, separated by paired eave brackets, largely decorative, that appeared to support the roof. I pulled onto a parking pad sufficient to accommodate ten cars and left my pale blue VW hunched, cartoonlike, between a sleek Lincoln Continental on one side and a full-size Mercedes on the other. I didn't bother to lock up, operating on the assumption that the electronic surveillance system was watching over both me and my vehicle as I crossed to the front walk. The lawns were wide and well tended, and the quiet was underlined by the twittering of finches. I pressed the front bell, listening to the hollow-sounding chimes inside clanging out two notes as though by a hammer on iron. The ancient woman who came to the door wore an old-fashioned black uniform with a white pinafore over it. Her opaque stockings were the color of doll flesh, her crepe-soled shoes emitting the faintest squeak as I followed her down the marble-tiled hall. She hadn't asked my name, but perhaps I was the only visitor expected that day. The corridor was paneled in oak, the white plaster ceiling embossed with chevrons and fleurs-de-lis. She showed me into the library, which was also paneled in oak. Drab leather-bound books lined shelves that ran floor to ceiling, with a brass rail and a rolling ladder allowing access to the upper reaches. The room smelled of dry wood and paper mold. The inner hearth in the stone fireplace was tall enough to stand in, and a recent blaze had left a partially blackened oak log and the faint stench of wood smoke. Mr. Lafferty was seated in one of a pair of matching wing chairs. I placed him in his eighties, an age I'd considered elderly once upon a time. I've since come to realize how widely the aging process varies. My landlord is eighty-seven, the baby of his family, with siblings whose ages range as high as ninety-six. All five of them are lively, intelligent, adventurous, competitive, and given to good-natured squabbling among themselves. Mr. Lafferty, on the other hand, looked as though he'd been old for a good twenty years. He was inordinately thin, with knees as bony as a pair of misplaced elbows. His once sharp features had at least been softened by the passing years. Two small clear plastic tubes had been placed discreetly in his nostrils, tethering him to a stout green oxygen tank on a cart to his left. One side of his jaw was sunken, and a savage red line running across his throat suggested extensive surgery of some vicious sort. He studied me with eyes as dark and shiny as dots of brown sealing wax. "I appreciate your coming, Ms. Millhone. I'm Nord Lafferty," he said, holding out a hand that was knotted with veins. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "Nice to meet you," I murmured, moving forward to shake hands with him. His were pale, a tremor visible in his fingers, which were icy to the touch. He motioned to me. "You might want to pull that chair close. I've had thyroid surgery a month ago and more recently some polyps removed from my vocal cords. I've been left with this rasping noise that passes as speech. Isn't painful, but it's irksome. I apologize if I'm difficult to understand." "So far, I'm not having any problem." "Good. Would you like a cup of tea? I can have my housekeeper make a pot, but I'm afraid you'll have to pour for yourself. These days, her hands aren't any steadier than mine." "Thanks, but I'm fine." I pulled the second wing chair closer and took a seat. "When was this house built? It's really beautiful." Condiiton: clean, tight and unmarked. Slight shelfwear to dustjacket.

$2.99

Double Take: A Mellingham Mystery
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Double Take: A Mellingham Mystery

By Oleksiw, Susan

Scribner, 1994-01-01. Hardcover. Like New.

$2.99

Death of the Office Witch (Charlie Greene mystery)
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Death of the Office Witch (Charlie Greene mystery)

By Millhiser, Marlys

Otto Penzler Books, 1993-11-01. Hardcover. Like New. 1883402026 From Publishers Weekly This semi-supernatural mystery, an uneven work that doesn't live up to its best moments, marks the return of L.A. literary agent Charlie Green. On a day that begins with highway gridlock, a missed appointment and an argument with her acid-tongued teenage daughter, Libby, Charlie also faces the mysterious disappearance of waspish office secretary Gloria Tuschman. Gloria is discovered sprawled out in nearby bushes--dead. Charlie, who tested her sleuthing skills in Murder at Moot Point , is brought in on the case by Gloria herself, whose voice seems to call from the Great Beyond: "Charlie, I'm in the trash can. Help me." Lt. David Dalrymple of the Beverly Hills PD also hopes for her help while Charlie learns that several co-workers have reason to rejoice in Gloria's death. Then, visiting Montana author Mary Ann Leffler also vanishes, leaving Charlie to hunt for more clues in this world and the next. Millhiser is perhaps too successful at making the work of a Hollywood literary agent seem mundane; as for other realms, those unearthly messages, rather than being portentous, are just transparent plot-expediting gimmicks. Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc. From Library Journal Charlie Greene, the L.A. literary agent who bumbled into a murder investigation in Murder at Moot Point ( LJ 10/1/92), tries once again to outwit police. When fellow workers become suspects in the murder of their universally unloved office receptionist, no one has an ironclad alibi, so Greene balances her own hectic schedule, an unpredictable teenager, and a tenacious homicide detective in order to help them out. Before she discovers the receptionist's "hold" on the murderer, further murder and mayhem occur. Humorous, inviting, and Hollywood hectic, this book is written in crisp, likable prose. Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc. From Kirkus Reviews Literary agent Charlie Greene (Murder at Moot Point) arrives at her Beverly Hills office just in time to find receptionist Gloria Tuschman missing and to hear her disembodied voice whispering, ``Charlie, I'm in the trash can. Help me.'' Though Gloria's body is actually discovered in the bushes outside the office building, Charlie wonders whether she can use her newfound psychic powers, honed by a s?ance held by Gloria's real-life witches' coven, to figure out which of Gloria's blackmail victims in the office would kill to safeguard a guilty secret (exposure to AIDS, a prison record, a secret wife)--and what Gloria's death has to do with the disappearance of prickly novelist Mary Ann Leffler. Notable for its large, attractive cast, its shameless use of coincidence--you'll need to be psychic to tell which leads mean anything--and the breathtaking gaps that the final explanation never plugs. Puzzle addicts should leave this one alone. -- Copyright ?1993, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.

$6.43

Creeping Jenny (Celia Grant Mystery, Book 9)
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Creeping Jenny (Celia Grant Mystery, Book 9)

By Sherwood, John

Scribner, 1993-12-01. Hardcover. Very Good. 0684196131 Note paperback, not hardback. Galley proof, hand paginated. Clean and unmarked.

$2.99

Low Treason
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Low Treason

By Tourney, Leonard

Quartet Books, 1984-08-01. Hardcover. Like New. 0704324334 This lovely cloth cover book, 232 pages long, is in very good condition, with light shelf wear, light bumping to the spine ends and cover corners, light page edge soiling. The pages are tight, bright and clean. The dust jacket is in very good condition, with moderate shelf wear, light bumping to the cover edges, light surface scuffing. "Low Treason is set in Elizabethan England. Thomas Ingram, a young man who is apprenticed to a well-known London jeweller, vanishes while on his way home to an Essex village." Very nice condition. clean, tight and unmarked. Dustjacket has a few indentations in the board fold.

$11.56

Death in Holy Orders (Adam Dalgliesh Mystery Series #11)
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Death in Holy Orders (Adam Dalgliesh Mystery Series #11)

By P. D. James

Alfred A. Knopf, 2001-04-10. Hardcover. Very Good. 0375412557 Editorial Reviews 's Best of 2001 Despite challenges from Ruth Rendell and (more recently) Minette Walters, P.D. James's position as Britain's Queen of Crime remains largely unassailable. Although a certain reaction has set in to her reputation (and there are those who claim her poetry-loving copper Adam Dalgliesh doesn't correspond to any of his counterparts in the real world), her detractors can scarcely deny her astonishing literary gifts. More than any other writer, she has elevated the detective story into the realms of literature, with the psychology of the characters treated in the most complex and authoritative fashion. Her plots, too, are full of intriguing detail and studed with brilliantly observed character studies. Who cares if Dalgliesh belongs more in the pages of a book than poking around a graffiti-scrawled council estate? As a policeman, he is considerably more plausible than Doyle's Holmes, and that's never stopped us loving the Baker Street sleuth. Death in Holy Orders represents something of a challenge from James to her critics, taking on all the contentious elements and rigorously reinvigorating them. She had admitted that she was finding it increasingly difficult to find new plots for Dalgliesh, and the locale here (a theological college on a lonely stretch of the East Anglian coast) turns out to be an inspired choice. We're presented with the enclosed setting so beloved of golden age detective writers, and James is able to incorporate her theological interests seamlessly into the plot (but never in any doctrinaire way; the nonbeliever is never uncomfortable). The body of a student at the college is found on the shore, suffocated by a fall of sand. Dalgliesh is called upon to reexamine the verdict of accidental death (which the student's father would not accept). Having visited the College of St. Anselm in his boyhood, he finds the investigation has a strong nostalgic aspect for him. But that is soon overtaken by the realization that he has encountered the most horrific case of his career, and another visitor to the college dies a horrible death. As an exploration of evil--and as a piece of highly distinctive crime writing--this is James at her nonpareil best. Dalgliesh, too, is rendered with new dimensions of psychological complexity. --Barry Forshaw, Amazon.co.uk From Publishers Weekly Baroness James may have turned 80, but neither she nor her dogged Scotland Yard detective Commander Adam Dalgliesh (last seen in 1997's A Certain Justice) shows any sign of flagging in this superb whodunit, with its extraordinarily complex and nuanced plot and large cast of credible characters. When the body of a young ordinand, Ronald Treeves, turns up buried in a sandy bank on the Suffolk coast near isolated St. Anselm's, a High Anglican theological college, it's unclear whether his death was an accident, suicide or murder. The mystery deepens a few days later when someone suffocates Margaret Munroe, a retired nurse with a bad heart, because she remembers an event 12 years earlier that could have some bearing on whatever's amiss at St. Anselm's. Enter Dalgliesh at the behest of Ronald's father, Sir Alred, who's received an anonymous note suggesting foul play in his son's death. It isn't long before another death occurs, and this time it's clearly murder: late one night in the chapel, somebody bashes in the head of Archdeacon Crampton, a hard-nosed outsider who wanted to close St. Anselm's. Dalgliesh and his investigative team examine the complicated motives of a host of suspects resident at the college, mostly ordinands and priests, slowly unveiling the connections among the various deaths. Illegitimacy, incest, a secret marriage, a missing cloak and a valuable altar triptych are just some of the ingredients in a case as contrived as any Golden Age classic but presented with such masterful ease and conviction that even the most skeptical readers will suspend disbelief. This is a natural for PBS Mystery adaptation. (Apr. 19)Forecast: With a 300,000-copy first printing, this BOMC main selection is sure to race up the bestseller lists. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc. From Library Journal A Victorian mansion situated on a lonely cliff along the English coast. Guests, welcome and unwelcome, gathered for a long weekend. A dark and stormy night. A shocking murder in a locked room. James combines all the elements of the classic English detective story in her first Adam Dalgliesh mystery since A Certain Justice (LJ 11/1/97). Asked by a wealthy businessman to investigate the "accidental" death of his adopted son Ronald, a student at a small theological college in East Anglia, Dalgliesh willingly returns to St. Anselm's, where he had spent happy summers as a teenager. But what was a casual investigation turns into official police business when the archdeacon, another weekend visitor, is found brutally murdered in the locked church. Is his killing related to Ronald's death or to the recent fatal "heart attack" of the housekeeper who discovered Ronald's body? Or was the archdeacon murdered because he threatened to close the college down? In their usual methodical and careful manner, Dagliesh and his team, Detective Inspectors Kate Miskin and Piers Tarrant, seek answers and a murderer. Despite the too-obvious red herrings and plot contrivances, this is still an enjoyable read to be savored on chilly evenings with a cup of hot tea. - Wilda Williams, "Library Journal" Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc. From The New Yorker This engrossing, almost consoling whodunit is a classic closed-box mystery: almost everything happens behind the closed doors of St. Anselm's, a small Anglican theological college set on a windy cliff abutting the sea. Commander Adam Dalgliesh, as always both wistful and stern, returns to St. Anselm's, where he spent a few blissful boyhood summers, to investigate the death of a student, but the case quickly expands as bodies begin to fall like so many dominoes. It's a pleasure to read James at the top of her form, as she often is here, especially when she's delineating the differences between supposedly like-minded souls, but this time around the d?

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