A Fatal Grace (Three Pines Mysteries, No. 2) by Louise Penny

By Louise Penny

Winner of the 2007 Agatha Award for most sensible Novel!When leader Inspector Armand Gamache is named to enquire a woman’s loss of life, it doesn’t take lengthy for him to achieve that no love used to be misplaced on leave out de Poitiers. yet whether all people hated her—her husband, lover, and daughter between them—how is it that not anyone observed her get electrocuted in the course of a frozen lake within the heart of city? Gamache digs underneath the outside of 3 Pines to discover the place the genuine secrets and techniques are buried. yet different problems lie forward for the detective. it sort of feels he has a few enemies of his own…and with the arrival of the sour wintry weather winds, whatever way more chilling is in store. 

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It’s been months since Jane died. You helped solve her murder. You know for sure Jane would be annoyed she gave you all her money and you’re not even enjoying it. ’ Myrna had shaken her head in mock bewilderment. ‘I’d have known what to do with it. Boom, down to Jamaica, a nice Rasta man, a good book—’ ‘Wait a minute. ’ ‘Oh, yes. Each has a purpose. ’ Clara had laughed. They shared a disdain for hard books. Not the content, but the cover. Hardcovers were simply too hard to hold, especially in bed.

He stood naked in their hotel room. ‘I found it in the garbage. ’ He was staggered. For an instant he wondered whether he’d misjudged her. These were clearly the works of a gifted artist. ‘Of course not. Some pathetic little person from the village gave them to me to show around to my gallery friends. Trying to suck up, it was the funniest thing. ” Very annoying. Imagine asking me for a favor? ’ His heart sank. He knew the answer, of course. ‘Said I’d be delighted. ’ Saul hesitated, then closed the portfolio and put it back in the garbage, hating himself for helping to destroy such a luminous portfolio, and hating himself even more for wanting to destroy it.

She approached the beggar, noticing the vomit had stopped steaming and was frozen in place. As she got closer Clara became convinced the beggar was an old woman. She could see a scraggle of iron-gray hair and thin arms hugging the crusty blanket to her knees. Clara bent down and caught a whiff. It was enough to make her gag. Instinctively she pulled back, then moved closer again. Putting her weight of bags on the ground she laid the food next to the woman. ‘I brought you some food,’ she said first in English, then in French.

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