Showing results for "Brothers" in Traditional Detectives

Christmas, 1141 A.D. Abbot Radulfus returns from London, bringing with him a priest for the vacant living of Holy Cross (known as the Foregate), a man of presence, scholarship and discipline, but neither humility nor the common touch. When he is found drowned in the mill-pond, suspicion is cast in many directions, not least toward a young man who came in the priest's train, sent to work in Brother Cadfael's garden. For he has little obvious priestly calling. Indeed, he soon attracts the friendship of a girl both beautiful and formidable. To Brother Cadfael, once wordly, now dedicated, if gently cynical, is left the familiar task of sorting the complicated strands which define guilt and innocence.

Lord Pastern fired his revolver. The figure in the spotlight fell, and the coup-de-theatre had become murder. Could Inspector Alleyn believe Pastern had let hatred of his future son-in-law go too far? Or would the tangle of jealousies and blackmail among the guests reveal another murderer?

In the summer of 1138, war between King Stephen and the Empress Maud takes brother Cadfael from the quiet world of his garden to the bloody battlefield. Not far from the safety of the Abbey walls, Shrewsbury Castle falls, leaving its ninety-four defenders loyal to the empress to hang as traitors. With a heavy heart, Brother Cadfael agrees to bury the dead, only to make a grisly discovery: 95 bodies lie in a row, and the extra corpse tells Cadfael that the killer is both clever and ruthless. But one death among so many seems unimportant to all but the good Benedictine.

Recovering from a broken leg after his ignominious fall from the Titanic, Lestrade should have had a peaceful time convalescing. But an attempt on the life of his future father-in-law makes him realise that a policeman is never really off duty. What is particularly puzzling is the arrival of a letter which simply reads, "Four for the Gospel Makers", and it isn’t the first Lestrade has been sent. So begins one of Sholto Lestrade’s most mystifying cases, encompassing both the present and the past.

The words of the missionary hymn I had sung as a schoolboy in chapel came to my mind as I stood on the deck of the steamer Redolent, anchored just off the Port of Colombo. They were to prove singularly prescient. Under more usual circumstances, the experience of looking up into the star-studded sky whilst feeling the warm, moist tropical breezes caress one's face is a sensuous joy. Yet on that night, more than twenty years ago now, I had a profound sense of foreboding.

The words of the missionary hymn I had sung as a schoolboy in chapel came to my mind as I stood on the deck of the steamer Redolent, anchored just off the Port of Colombo. They were to prove singularly prescient. Under more usual circumstances, the experience of looking up into the star-studded sky whilst feeling the warm, moist tropical breezes caress one's face is a sensuous joy. Yet on that night, more than twenty years ago now, I had a profound sense of foreboding.

Meet The Honourable Richard Rollison—a.k.a the Toff. A debonair aristocrat and ace amateur sleuth, he's the scourge of London's criminal underworld: sometimes working alone, sometimes hand-in-glove with the police. But wherever he goes, he leaves his distinctive calling card: a jaunty caricature featuring a top hat, a monocle, a bow tie and a cigar. In these two gripping thrillers, he finds himself involved in rural intrigue and a wedding-day mystery.