Santa Clawed
A Mrs. Murphy Mystery
(Sprache: Englisch)
Und wieder kommt ein Krimi auf Sammetpfoten daher. Ein weihnachtliches Abenteuer von der wunderbaren Rita Mae Brown. Wenn möglich mit einer schnurrenden Katze auf dem Schoß vorm Kamin zu lesen. Zur Not tut es auch ein Hund auf den Füßen. Viel Vergnügen!
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Und wieder kommt ein Krimi auf Sammetpfoten daher. Ein weihnachtliches Abenteuer von der wunderbaren Rita Mae Brown. Wenn möglich mit einer schnurrenden Katze auf dem Schoß vorm Kamin zu lesen. Zur Not tut es auch ein Hund auf den Füßen. Viel Vergnügen!
Klappentext zu „Santa Clawed “
As Harry well knows, there s hardly a place on earth cozier than Crozet, Virginia, at Christmastime. Snowflakes, carolers, it s all picture-perfect until Harry and her husband, Fair, find the tree they ve chosen grimly decorated with a corpse. The tree farm is run by the Brothers of Love, a semimonastic organization whose members live atop the scenic Blue Ridge Mountains. Now, as the season grows merrier, a murderer is growing bolder. One by one, prominent men of Crozet are being crossed off Christmas shopping lists and added to the morgue. And if Harry and her four-legged helpers aren t very good and very careful this Christmas will be her last.
Lese-Probe zu „Santa Clawed “
Chapter OneSt. Luke's, a beautiful stone church on the outskirts of Crozet, Virginia, appeared even more stunning than usual given the fresh snow on the rooftops, the windowsills of the parish office, and the pastor's living quarters across the now-white quad. Plumes of smoke rose from the great hall, which formed one side of the quad, and smoke spiraled from the parish office. The church was built in 1803, and it was clear that those early Lutherans needed many fireplaces. Over the centuries the buildings had been wired, vented, and plumbed. The modern conveniences served to enhance comfort. The structures had to last for centuries and no doubt would endure more improvements over ensuing centuries.
As Harry Haristeen walked across the large quad to the great hall, her two cats and corgi behind her, she wondered if people today could build as securely as our forefathers did. Seemed like things were built to fall apart. Grateful that she lived in an old farmhouse built about the same time as the church, she paused on her way to the work party long enough to make a snowball and throw it up in the air.
Tucker, the corgi, jumped up to catch it. As she did, the snowball chilled her teeth, so she dropped it.
"Dumb!" Pewter, the portly gray cat, laughed.
"I knew it would do that, but if she throws a ball, I have to catch it. That's my job," Tucker defended herself.
Harry decided to sprint the last two hundred yards to warm up.
The tiger cat, Mrs. Murphy, shot past her. The shoveled walkway was covered with inches of fresh snow but easily negotiable.
Pewter, hating to be outdone, couldn't get around Harry so she leapt onto the snow, where she promptly sank.
Tucker, trotting on the path, called out, "Dumb."
A snow triangle like a coolie hat on her head did not cool down Pewter's temper. She shook off the snow hat, plowed onto the path. Running right up to Tucker's butt, she reached out and gave the dog a terrific swat.
Tucker growled,
... mehr
stooped to whirl around.
Harry commanded over her shoulder, "That's enough, you two."
"You're lucky she saved your fat rear end." Pewter flattened her ears to look extra mean.
"Ooh la." The dog now ignored the cat, which was far more upsetting than a knock-down/drag-out to Pewter, who felt the world revolved around her.
Upon entering the great hall, Harry inhaled the fragrance of oak burning in the two fireplaces, one at either end. The aroma of a well-tended fire added to winter's allure. Harry loved all the seasons. Winter's purity appealed to her. She loved being able to see the spine of the land, loved popping into a friend's house for a hot chocolate or serving the same. Born and raised here, she was buoyed up by close friendships. People might feel alienated in big cities, but she couldn't imagine that emotion. Tied to the land, the people and animals that inhabited it, Harry knew she was a lucky soul.
"Look at those hardworking women," she called out as she removed her coat, hat, gloves, and scarf.
Alicia Palmer and BoomBoom Craycroft, both great beauties, moved a long table near the eastern fireplace. The large room cost so much to heat that the thermostat stayed at fifty-two. The fireplaces helped considerably. Sitting near one kept one's fingers from stiffening, and they'd need their fingers today.
Alicia, a former movie star, now in her fifties, was in charge of decorations for the Christmas party, which was little more than a week away. Each season St. Luke's hosted a large party that brought parishioners and neighbors together in a relaxed setting. Reverend Herb Jones, the pastor, constantly came up with ways to strengthen the community.
Susan Tucker, Harry's best friend from cradle days, and the breeder of Tucker, put grapevines on the table.
Racquel Deeds and Jean Keelo, t
Harry commanded over her shoulder, "That's enough, you two."
"You're lucky she saved your fat rear end." Pewter flattened her ears to look extra mean.
"Ooh la." The dog now ignored the cat, which was far more upsetting than a knock-down/drag-out to Pewter, who felt the world revolved around her.
Upon entering the great hall, Harry inhaled the fragrance of oak burning in the two fireplaces, one at either end. The aroma of a well-tended fire added to winter's allure. Harry loved all the seasons. Winter's purity appealed to her. She loved being able to see the spine of the land, loved popping into a friend's house for a hot chocolate or serving the same. Born and raised here, she was buoyed up by close friendships. People might feel alienated in big cities, but she couldn't imagine that emotion. Tied to the land, the people and animals that inhabited it, Harry knew she was a lucky soul.
"Look at those hardworking women," she called out as she removed her coat, hat, gloves, and scarf.
Alicia Palmer and BoomBoom Craycroft, both great beauties, moved a long table near the eastern fireplace. The large room cost so much to heat that the thermostat stayed at fifty-two. The fireplaces helped considerably. Sitting near one kept one's fingers from stiffening, and they'd need their fingers today.
Alicia, a former movie star, now in her fifties, was in charge of decorations for the Christmas party, which was little more than a week away. Each season St. Luke's hosted a large party that brought parishioners and neighbors together in a relaxed setting. Reverend Herb Jones, the pastor, constantly came up with ways to strengthen the community.
Susan Tucker, Harry's best friend from cradle days, and the breeder of Tucker, put grapevines on the table.
Racquel Deeds and Jean Keelo, t
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Rita Mae Brown, Sneaky Pie Brown
Rita Mae Brown is the bestselling author of the Sneaky Pie Brown series; the Sister Jane series; A Nose for Justice and Murder Unleashed; Rubyfruit Jungle; In Her Day; and Six of One, as well as several other novels. An Emmy-nominated screenwriter and a poet, Brown lives in Afton, Virginia.Sneaky Pie Brown, a tiger cat born somewhere in Albemarle County, Virginia, was discovered by Rita Mae Brown at her local SPCA. They have collaborated on numerous Mrs. Murphy mysteries in addition to Sneaky Pie s Cookbook for Mystery Lovers and Sneaky Pie for President.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autoren: Rita Mae Brown , Sneaky Pie Brown
- 2009, 288 Seiten, mit Abbildungen, Maße: 10,4 x 17,3 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Bantam Books
- ISBN-10: 0553591592
- ISBN-13: 9780553591590
- Erscheinungsdatum: 24.11.2009
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
As feline collaborators go, you couldn t ask for better than Sneaky Pie Brown. New York Times Book Review "An easy, enjoyable read ... Rita Mae and Sneaky Pie have written another winner in the Mrs. Murphy Mystery series." Albuquerque Journal
Reading a Mrs. Murphy mystery is like eating a potato chip. You always go back for one more A deserving bestselling series. Midwest Book Review
[Rita Mae Brown is] a master of the cozy cat genre. Publishers Weekly
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