By Laurie R. King
It really is 1923. Mary Russell Holmes and her husband, the retired Sherlock Holmes, are having fun with the summer time jointly on their Sussex property after they are visited through an outdated good friend, pass over Dorothy Ruskin, an archaeologist simply back from Palestine. She leaves of their safeguard an historic manuscript which turns out to trace on the probability that Mary Magdalene used to be an apostle--an artifact absolute to fan the flames of a hurricane of biblical proportions within the Christian institution. while Ruskin is unexpectedly killed in a sad twist of fate, Russell and Holmes locate themselves at the path of a fiendishly shrewdpermanent assassin. Brimming with political intrigue, theological arcana, and magnificent Holmesian deductions.
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Extra resources for A Letter of Mary (Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes Mysteries, Book 3)
She jumped up. ‘Now I must be going. ’ No one asked what for. ’ Uckfield posed, after she’d gone. pmd 64 14/11/2005, 18:15 T IDE OF D EATH 65 Horton considered it for a moment. ’ ‘Check with Vice. And you’d better run the MO through the ACR system, if the computers are working,’ he added sarcastically. ’ What does he think I’ve been doing all day? Horton wondered. ‘There’s nothing that matches the way our victim was laid out. ’ His phone rang and he snatched it up. ‘About time. What? Then whose are they?
To say Dr Clayton had been a surprise was putting it mildly. He wasn’t sure what he had expected but it wasn’t someone who looked as if she’d just finished college. ’ asked Cantelli, chewing his gum and studying the body with interest. Horton was always amazed that the mortuary smell never seemed to get to Cantelli. ‘A piece of material is looped around the victim’s neck and then tightened with a stick, like a tourniquet. ’ Cantelli said, ‘Then she undressed him? ’ asked Horton, trying to place Dr Clayton’s accent.
Jarrett fingered the large plaster. ’ ‘Yes it was,’ Jarrett snapped, his unshaven face flushing. ’ ‘Harassing? Who’s harassing? ’ Jarrett let out a heavy sigh and rolled his tired eyes. ‘Here we go again. pmd 50 14/11/2005, 18:15 T IDE OF D EATH 51 Horton stepped closer. ‘No, I won’t. ’ He could smell garlic on Jarrett’s breath and the sweat from his unwashed body. ‘Then you’ll end up being chucked out of CID, pounding the beat; or picking up your dole money. Take your pick,’ Jarrett quipped. Horton wanted to ram his fist into his face and wipe the mocking smirk from it.