By Alan Bradley
Within the hamlet of Bishop's Lacey, the insidiously smart and unflappable eleven-year-old sleuth Flavia de Luce had requested a Gypsy lady to inform her fortune--never looking forward to to later stumble around the terrible soul, bludgeoned nearly to demise within the wee hours in her personal caravan. was once this an act of retribution by way of these confident that the soothsayer kidnapped an area baby years in the past? definitely Flavia is familiar with the bliss of settling ratings; revenge is a pleasant hobby while one has odious older sisters. yet how may possibly this crime be attached to the lacking child? because the crimson herrings pile up, Flavia needs to style via clues fishy and foul to untangle darkish deeds and unsafe secrets.
BONUS: This variation includes an excerpt from Alan Bradley's I Am Half-Sick of Shadows.
Read Online or Download A Red Herring Without Mustard (Flavia de Luce Mysteries, Book 3) PDF
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Additional info for A Red Herring Without Mustard (Flavia de Luce Mysteries, Book 3)
She said, wolfing it down. ” “Well, you have all those little brothers, and boys can eat a lot of pie. Mr. Clutter and Kenyon, I know they never get tired of them. But the cook does—Nancy just turns up her nose. It’ll be the same with you. ” Mrs. Clutter, who wore rimless glasses, removed them and pressed her eyes. “Forgive me, dear. I’m sure you’ll never know what it is to be tired. ” Jolene was silent. The note of panic in Mrs. Clutter’s voice had caused her to have a shift of feeling; Jolene was confused, and wished that her mother, who had promised to call back for her at eleven, would come.
Clutter now fed Babe the core of his apple, calling good morning to a man raking debris inside the corral—Alfred Stoecklein, the sole resident employee. The Stoeckleins and their three children lived in a house not a hundred yards from the main house; except for them, the Clutters had no neighbors within half a mile. A long-faced man with long brown teeth, Stoecklein asked, “Have you some particular work in mind today? Cause we got a sick-un. The baby. Me and Missis been up and down with her most the night.
Clutter was shaving, showering, and outfitting himself in whipcord trousers, a cattleman’s leather jacket, and soft stirrup boots, he had no fear of disturbing her; they did not share the same bedroom. For several years he had slept alone in the master bedroom, on the ground floor of the house—a two-story, fourteen-room frame-and-brick structure. Though Mrs. Clutter stored her clothes in the closets of this room, and kept her few cosmetics and her myriad medicines in the blue-tile-and-glass-brick bathroom adjoining it, she had taken for serious occupancy Eveanna’s former bedroom, which, like Nancy’s and Kenyon’s rooms, was on the second floor.