The Charity Shop Detective Agency Mysteries

Fiona, Sue, and Daisy, three retired ladies who volunteer at the local charity shop, Dogs Need Nice Homes, can’t believe their favorite customer is dead. Eighty-six-year-old Sarah Brown was found murdered in her hallway by her delivery man, a domino clutched in her hand—with a name scratched on it. When another person is found dead with a domino in their hand, and with the police making no progress, the ladies will need to help unmask a serial killer. At least they have Fiona’s scruffy-haired terrier cross to assist them.

Amongst the rows of charming, brightly painted cabins, an elderly man's beach hut is set on fire in the middle of the night—while he sleeps inside. By day, Fiona, Sue, and Daisy volunteer at the Dogs Need Nice Homes charity shop. By night, they investigate crimes. And they're determined to get to the bottom of this murder. Malcolm Crainey was an obsessive beach-comber who lovingly decorated his hut with the treasures he found by the sea. Who'd want to kill a harmless old man?

It's the day of the Christchurch Dog Show. The whole town is aquiver with excitement. The ladies of the Charity Shop Detective Agency are hoping to make lots of new furry friends. After a very dramatic Best Biscuit Catcher competition, Fiona, Sue, and Daisy from the Dogs Need Nice Homes charity shop come across a shocking scene. The dog show's vet is performing CPR on a woman. The ladies rush over, but it's too late. Back at the shop, the ladies learn that the poor woman was murdered. Someone injected Sylvia Steadman with something very nasty indeed.

It's the end of a long day at the Dogs Need Nice Homes charity shop. Fiona, Daisy, and Partial Sue, the three retired ladies who volunteer there, are ready to lock up for the night. The ladies watch aghast as a clapped-out ice-cream van lurches up to their door—with Daisy's daughter Bella behind the wheel! Newly divorced Bella has only just gotten rid of her rotten husband. Now, she's bought herself a van—and a whole world of trouble.

Wild swimming in February? No, thank you. It sounds like torture to Fiona, Daisy, and Partial Sue, the retired ladies behind the counter at Dogs Need Nice Homes charity shop. Still, no one ever died of plunging into the icy waters around the sleepy little English town of Southbourne. Until now. The body of Colin Barclay, retired PE master and wild-swimming fanatic, washes up in a secluded cove. Days later, a shifty new customer comes calling at Dogs Need Nice Homes. "Is this where you solve murders?" she asks, her eyes darting wildly round the shelves of bric-a-brac.