By M. C. Beaton
After approximately being killed via either a employed hit guy and her former secretary, Agatha Raisin may possibly use a few low-key instances. So while Robert Smedley walks during the door, decided to end up that his spouse is dishonest, Raisin Investigations instantly bargains to help.
Trouble is, Agatha hates divorce circumstances - particularly while she's been employed by means of Smedley - yet she has a company to run now and she's now not approximately to show away a paying patron. regrettably for Agatha, Mabel Smedley seems to be the ideal spouse, younger, lovely and a typical volunteer at church. yet simply as Agatha is able to hand over, Smedley is poisoned with weed killer, leaving Mabel, the major suspect, to inherit a fortune.
With nobody left to pay her, Agatha comes to a decision to drop the case... that's until eventually her previous good friend Sir Charles Fraith turns up back to re-ignite her interest.
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Additional info for Agatha Raisin and the Perfect Paragon (Agatha Raisin, Book 16)
11 Chapter 4. 14 Chapter 5. 18 Chapter 6. 21 Chapter 7. 24 Chapter 8. 27 Chapter 9. 30 Chapter 10. 33 Chapter 11. 35 Chapter 12. 37 Chapter 13. 39 Chapter 14. 42 Chapter 15. 45 Chapter 16. 48 Chapter 17. 51 Chapter 18. 54 Chapter 19. 57 Chapter 20. 60 Chapter 21. 63 Chapter 22. 65 Chapter 23. 68 Chapter 24. 71 Chapter 25. 74 Chapter 26. 76 EPILOGUE.. 78 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS. 79 Chapter 1 Jenny was drinking cordial by the stream at the end of her overgrown garden, watching a school of tiny brown trout flick this way and that, quick as lightning.
Steve grinned. 'Girlfriend? I've never heard you call yourself that before. ' She contrived to look hurt, but a laugh forced itself out. One of relief, of having a distraction from herself. And he looked handsome tonight, somehow more confident in his new life as a nearly-qualified architect. He still remained partly the romantic backwoodsman who had brought the countryside alive for her, telling her the names of every plant and tree, showing her where the deer stood at night and where the fox slunk through the hedges, but he seemed to inspire more trust now that his world had expanded beyond the boundaries of his out-of-the-way farm.
A moment of peace. Too good to last. She walked back across the ankle-high lawn, hoping that whoever was disturbing her on a Sunday morning would give up and leave her to her daydreams. They didn't. She had counted eight rings by the time she stepped through the back door of the cottage onto the cool flags of the tiny kitchen, ten by the time she had lifted the iron latch to the living room, which smelled of old oak and soot from the inglenook. It was much colder inside than out. The flesh on her arms tightened into goosebumps as she lifted the receiver.
Agatha Raisin and the Perfect Paragon (Agatha Raisin, Book 16) by M. C. Beaton