Showing results by publisher "--Tyson Hanks" in Women Sleuths

Every Thursday, three retired school teachers have their ‘coffee o’clock’ sessions at the Thirsk Garden Centre café. But one fateful week, as they are catching up with a slice of cake, they bump into their ex-colleague, Topsy. By the next Thursday, Topsy’s dead. The last thing Liz, Thelma and Pat imagined was that they would become involved in a murder. But they know there’s more to Topsy’s death than meets the eye—and it’s down to them to prove it.

Former Detective Hillary Greene is off on holiday. For a blissful two weeks, her life will be free of murder victims, murder suspects—and, best of all, no paperwork. She’s heading for the beautiful Welsh town of Hay-on-Wye, where she plans to spend her time browsing old bookshops and generally relaxing. Hillary arrives at the picturesque Riverside Inn where the other guests are an eclectic bunch: a charming Irishman, a rich American and his spoilt daughter, a thrice-married Canadian influencer, a wealthy widow and a taciturn taxidermist.

After a lifetime spent in public relations, one-woman dynamo Agatha Raisin struggles to adapt to life in a quiet country village - but she soon finds that there is murder and mayhem aplenty to keep her busy. Among the cases she has to deal with are a poisoned quiche; a vet who has been ‘put to sleep’; a hanged horticulturist; a murdered rambler and a curate who meets his Maker somewhat sooner than expected.

The strongest lies aren’t the ones we tell others—they’re the ones we tell ourselves. I thought I'd found my fairy tale ending when Andrew Chadwick saved my life during a hotel fire and gave me a whirlwind love story I didn’t think existed. But trusting him made me vulnerable, and believing in the impossible made me an easy target. Six months later, we're celebrating our dream wedding at an exclusive island resort, where every luxury imaginable is at our fingertips. It should be perfect. It should be paradise. But it's not.

The chic Manhattan nightspot Du Vin is not the kind of place Eve Dallas would usually patronize, and it's not the kind of bar where a lot of blood gets spilled. But that's exactly what happens one cold February evening.

It all started with the email. Rachel didn't even mean to look. She loves Jack, and she's pregnant with their child. She trusts him. But now she's seen it, she can't undo that moment. Or the chain of events it has set in motion. Why has Jack been lying about his past? Just what exactly is he hiding? And doesn't Rachel have a right to know the truth at any cost?

There's a murderer on the loose on a storm swept island cut off from the Scottish mainland. It's down to Losers Club, a quirky weight loss group led by the intrepid Penny Moon, to catch the culprit.

When recovering drug addict Lyle Pickering is found dead of an overdose, it looks like a tragic accident. But his sister Rochelle knows better, and so does Lieutenant Eve Dallas. Lyle was murdered, and the evidence points directly to his old street gang. As Eve and husband Roarke track the killer through the city's dive bars, drug dens and strip joints, another body is discovered.

Verity Beresford is worried about her husband. Oliver didn’t come home last night so of course Verity goes straight to Judith Potts, Marlow’s resident amateur sleuth, for help. Oliver, founder of the Marlow Amateur Dramatic Society, had hired The Marlow Belle, a private pleasure cruiser, for an exclusive party with the MADS committee but no one remembers seeing him disembark. And then Oliver’s body washes up on the Thames with two bullet holes in him – it’s time for the Marlow Murder Club to leap into action.

Saffron Everleigh returns to Ellington Manor after her grandfather suffers a heart attack. Back in her childhood home for the first time in years, Saffron faces tense family relationships made worse by the presence of the enigmatic Bill Wyatt, hired on as a doctor to the ailing Lord Easting. But the man is no doctor—in reality, he is a mysterious figure involved in the trafficking of dangerous government secrets, and his presence at Ellington can only mean trouble.

A German citizen is murdered in Belfast Botanic Gardens. Investigating, DCI Gawn Girvin concludes it is a revenge killing. But she draws a blank from CCTV and forensics. The only clue is the top of a perfume bottle found at the scene. As frustration sets in, Girvin develops a hunch that by tracing the victim’s criminal connections, they’ve followed the wrong scent. A young female university student seen nearby may hold the only key to unlocking the case. And like a bloodhound, Girvin follows the new leads. But being ex-army, her cold demeanour is a magnet for risk takers.

In a decrepit and long-empty New York building, a man begins the demolition process by swinging a sledgehammer into a wall. When the dust clears, he finds two skeletons wrapped in plastic behind it. The man is Lieutenant Eve Dallas’s billionaire husband, Roarke, and he summons her immediately. His latest real estate project is going to be on hold for a while, because by the time Eve and her crew are finished searching the premises, there are 12 murders to be solved.

Kitty Underhay is looking forward to a week of long lunches and wedding planning with her husband-to-be, Captain Matthew Bryant. But the plan is derailed when he is called on to collect a former comrade-in-arms, arriving on the 15:50 from Paddington. As the train bearing Simon Travers pulls up to the platform, a piercing scream rises over the screech of its brakes. Travers is dead in his seat, a dagger in his heart. Only a few individuals had access to Travers’s compartment, and Kitty must find out which of these seemingly benign passengers is, in fact, a cross-country killer.

As Eve pieces together clues that suggest identity theft, gang connections, and a deeply personal act of revenge, she hopes to track down whoever committed the unholy act of murdering a priest. Until a second murder, in front of an even larger crowd of worshippers, knocks the whole investigation sideways.

When a prostitute is found murdered in her bedsit, the Metropolitan police set to work finding the perpetrator of this brutal attack. DNA samples lead them straight to known-criminal George Marlow. The police think they've found their man, but things are not quite what they seem....

The villagers of Chipping Cleghorn, including Miss Marple, are agog with curiosity over an advertisement in the local gazette which reads: ‘A murder is announced and will take place on Friday October 29th, at Little Paddocks at 6.30 p.m.' A childish practical joke? Or a hoax intended to scare poor Letitia Blacklock? Unable to resist the mysterious invitation, a crowd begins to gather at Little Paddocks at the appointed time when, without warning, the lights go out.

Emma and Ariella, neighbours in one of Sydney’s most exclusive suburbs, appear to have it all—perfect homes, perfect husbands, perfect lives. But they both know dark secrets lurk beneath the surface and shallow waters can’t hide Ariella’s. Now she has been found murdered. Her daughter filmed the killing. Not knowing what she’s filmed, Emma’s daughter Kiki innocently uploads footage of Ariella’s brutal death. Emma fears the worst—the killer will know what she and Kiki have seen. Their safe suburban lives no longer exist.

Sir Stafford Nye's journey home from Malaysia to London takes an unexpected twist in the passenger lounge at Frankfurt: a young woman confides in him that someone is trying to kill her.

As Miss Marple sat basking in the Caribbean sunshine, she felt mildly discontented with life. True, the warmth eased her rheumatism, but here in paradise nothing ever happened. Eventually, her interest was aroused by an old soldier's yarn about strange coincidence. Infuriatingly, just as he was about to show her an astonishing photograph, the Major's attention wandered. He never did finish the story....

Amateur detective and bookshop owner Flora Steele and her dashing new husband Jack Carrington are finally embarking on the honeymoon of a lifetime. But will gorgeous gondola rides be ruined by their most heart-stopping case ever?