By Sheila Connolly
Beetle mania
While orchard proprietor Meg Corey dreads the exertions of handbook irrigation to stave off a drought, her boyfriend, Seth, couldn't be extra eager about doing historical upkeep on one among Granford's oldest homes. Tagging alongside as he choices up offers is meant to offer Meg a much-needed holiday, however the journey turns rotten while she virtually journeys over a useless physique at an previous observed mill's woodland reserve.
But the physique isn't the one scary discovery she makes. A mysterious insect infestation turns out to have migrated to the area—one that can carry critical damage to neighborhood woodlands. And it's as much as Meg to determine what's in the back of this surprising swarm of trouble.
Includes scrumptious Recipes
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Extra resources for Golden Malicious (Orchard Mysteries, Book 7)
Example text
If you leave me to get on with my work, some time later today, Inspector Horton,’ she answered brightly. ’ He heard her call as he left. ‘ We can start now. ’ Cantelli shrugged. pmd 46 14/11/2005, 18:15 T IDE OF D EATH 47 Cantelli laughed. ‘She knows her stuff and she can hold her own. I’ve seen Uckfield try to brow beat her without the slightest effect and you know what he can be like when he gets into his stride. ’ The corridor back into the main part of the hospital smelt of cabbage and disinfectant but even that was better than the formaldehyde of the mortuary.
She held his eyes. If she read his thoughts and was embarrassed by them she didn’t show it. She lifted the coffee cup in front of her and took a sip, then pulled a face. Horton guessed it had grown cold. ’ he asked, lightly. She answered as if he’d personally insulted her. ’ He wondered if her terseness was a cover for shyness, or guilt perhaps? He got the impression she didn’t really care that much for her husband but that didn’t mean she had killed him. Their body might not be Thurlow at all, although in a way he hoped it was.
And his future was too irretrievably linked to his past to forget the man. ‘Drop me at the marina, will you, Barney. I want to collect my bike. You return to the station; get those fingerprints over to the Scientific Services for checking. ’ Uckfield roared. I wasn’t playing, thought Horton, standing ramrod stiff the other side of the DCI’s desk. Who had told Uckfield about his encounter with Jarrett? Not Cantelli, surely? ‘Jarrett’s complained to the Super. Says you’ve been harassing him. ’ He might have guessed that Jarrett would go bellyaching right to the top.