The Man with a Load of Mischief
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At the Man with a Load of Mischief, they found the dead body stuck in a keg of beer. At the Jack and Hammer, another body was stuck out on the beam of the pub’s sign, replacing the mechanical man who kept the time. Two pubs. Two murders. One Scotland Yard inspector called in to help. Detective Chief Inspector Richard Jury arrives in Long Piddleton and finds everyone in the postcard village looking outside of town for the killer. Except for one Melrose Plant. A keen observer of human nature, he points Jury in the right direction: into the darkest parts of his neighbors’ hearts…
complex case from the depths of London's East End to the heights of Mayfair's art scene. The Stargazey First in the Andi Oliver Series Biting the Moon First in the Emma Graham Series Hotel Paradise Featuring Maud Chadwick from the Emma Graham Series The End of the Pier A Mystery in Poetry Form Send Bygraves ORDER YOUR COPIES TODAY! Scribner A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com This book is a work of fiction.
laughing. It was the voice that made him turn. “Inspector Jury?” Without thinking, he wheeled around, still with the grin stamped all over his face. “I’m Vivian Rivington. Your sergeant said that I should just come in.” She was looking at him with a puzzled frown. Jury stood there, idiotically smiling, and unable to move. He had taken one look at Vivian Rivington and promptly fallen in love. • • • It was true, as Lady Ardry had said, she was wearing a dark brown sweater, belted, but her
certainly have a point there, Mr. Matchett.” “And furthermore, innocent men do have your ‘perfect’ alibis, precisely because they are innocent.” “Another point I’ll admit. But I wasn’t really implying anything.” “The hell you weren’t.” Jury let that pass. “Had your wife no enemies?” Matchett shrugged. “I suppose so. She wasn’t popular, that’s certain. But no one, surely, with motive enough to kill her.” Matchett wiped his hands over his face in a gesture of extreme weariness. “Afterwards,
— I didn’t care who you thought came through that window. Outsized boots and a coverall to keep my clothes clean — nothing to it.” Jury wanted to keep him talking. “How did you ever manage to get behind Creed?” “He thought — rather, I convinced him — that I was merely checking the plumbing. The coverall helped there. And I am an actor, Inspector—” “I’ve noticed. Why in heaven’s name didn’t you meet Creed in some other place rather than bringing him to Long Piddleton?” “Well, now, you wouldn’t
in a salute. • • • As he walked out the door shortly after Plant had left, Jury heard Pluck and Wiggins arguing. “Now just look here what happened yesterday in Hampstead Heath,” said Pluck, slapping his fingers against a page of the Telegraph: “Fifteen-year-old girl goes and gets herself assaulted.” He tossed the paper aside. “An you say London’s a right old place. Ha! You won’t catch me living there.” As Jury shut the door, Pluck slurped his tea and added: “Man could get himself killed.”