The Blue Last: A Richard Jury Mystery
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Chief Inspector Michael Haggerty asks Richard Jury to prove brewing magnate Oliver Tynedale's granddaughter is an impostor. Excavation of Tynedale's bombed London pub, the Blue Last, has turned up two skeletons - was the child found his real granddaughter? Meanwhile Melrose Plant reluctantly poses as an under gardener to investigate the nanny who purportedly saved the baby's life.
that this new painting she’d seen made no difference to anyone. “Oh, yes, I’ve just remembered. That painting. You needn’t bother telling Trueblood; he’s already seen it. He isn’t interested.” She looked crestfallen, having been deprived of her bad news. “He isn’t?” “He went over to Swinetown—” “Swinton.” “He went there yesterday afternoon. He doesn’t want it, anyway.” Agatha was truly miffed. It was Marshall Trueblood who had made fools of both her and Theo Wrenn Browne at the trial, the
liked that attitude. Amy Eccleston, who had been conferring with them, excused herself and threaded her way through tables and chairs and objets d’art to join Jury near the front of the room. Her smile diminished fractionally when she saw his identification. “Oh.” Then the telephone rang and she was off to answer it, no doubt grateful for the pause it gave her. Jury studied the table in the middle of the room, frowning at the gilt and fat cherubs embracing the table legs. Why would anyone need
them provided no ease. The ones who were clear enough in the head, begged. Benny did not look down on this because his own mother had been forced to beg. Before, they had had a nice life, for Benny recalled a solid house with lots of rooms where he had lived with his mother. She had cooked for this wealthy family. Only, one day saw them not so wealthy; the man of the house had gone bankrupt and staff had been let go. It’s through no fault of your own, Mary; we’ve just got to tighten up.
one of Francis’s very good friends. I knew Haggerty, too, but not so well. I don’t really know his son, except for the one time I tried to help him out, but I have it on good authority he’s a very good policeman. I think Simon was really enjoying writing this book—though ‘enjoy’ sounds like the wrong word. What I mean is, he felt he was doing some good for himself and perhaps for the rest of us by delving into it. Like the expiation of a sin, though there was no sin involved. The working out of
in order to keep out the riffraff, the riffraff being females, married couples and all men who failed to meet her standards. So there was silence overhead until Stan Keeler had come along with his guitar and his dog Stone, a caramel-colored Labrador now draped across Jury’s feet, dreaming of empty fields— Which brought Jury back to the present, or, rather, to the past. Carole-anne reminded him a little of the redheaded girl, though Carole-anne’s hair had more gold mixed in with the red. And she