By Joan Hess
Agatha Award-winning writer Joan Hess, the prolific author of the Claire Malloy and Maggody mysteries, is liked for her smart sleuths, quirky characters, and her creative plotting. We invite you to take pleasure in this pleasant Claire Malloy secret, and to find why Sharyn McCrumb calls Joan Hess “the client saint of comedian mystery.” At Farberville excessive, it’s examining, writing...and murder.Who is familiar with what evil lurks within the halls of Farbervilles’ excessive school-or what blackmail is hidden in leave out Demeanor’s Falcon Crier suggestion column? under no circumstances book shop proprietor and novice sleuth Claire Malloy-until her daughter Caron persuades her to replacement for disgraced column editor and journalism instructor Emily Parchester. without doubt omit Parchester can't be to blame of embezzlement. however the petty fees graduate to homicide whilst valuable Weiss will get his final licks from omit Parchester’s peach compote. pass over Parchester herself, final obvious at an area sanitarium, is abruptly lacking. And now it’s as much as Claire to discover a person who’s been schooled within the advantageous artwork of murder...
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Additional info for Dear Miss Demeanor (Claire Malloy Mysteries, No. 3)
Say, Mrs. P. is mad at me again, but I didn’t do nothing. Could you see if you could maybe stop her before she goes to Mr. ” “Part of the reason she’s upset is that you did precisely nothing last night, including clean the classroom floors, empty the trashcans, or wipe down the chalkboards. ” Sherwood murmured. Pitts smirked. “I like that, Mr. Timmons. ” “Who will guard the guards themselves. ” Pitts snatched up his tools of the trade. “That ain’t funny, Mr. Timmons. It’s not easy to keep this place clean, you know.
She went into the kitchenette and came out with a square plastic box. “So sorry I can’t eat with you ladies today. ” Mrs. Platchett washed down a masticated mouthful. “Bernice, I want you to realize how distressed I am by this sordid affair. Emily is quite innocent; she would never touch a penny of the school’s money. ” The one I thought was Mae Bagby nodded. ” The third Fury, who had dozed off, opened her eyes to add her support. “Her father was Judge Amos Parchester of the state Supreme Court, Bernice.
I was neither detective nor substitute teacher. I was a widow who needed to earn a living in order to support a treacherous, loquacious teenager until she could be tucked away in a college dormitory. Preferably at the University of Fairbanks, or Iceland Polytech. Before my knuckles reached the door, it flew open. A tiny woman with thin white hair looked up at me as if I had just arrived in a chariot drawn by angels. She wore a black dress and a sensible, handmade cardigan. Her feet were covered by shabby pink slippers, a strange combination.