By M. C. Beaton
Feeling jilted and move, Agatha follows a fortune-teller's recommendation and rents a cottage within the lovely village of Fryfam, the place she hopes success and real love will come chasing after her for a transformation. regrettably, her romantic notions are quickly dispelled by means of the unusual goings-on within the village. What precisely are these unusual lighting in Agatha's again backyard? who's stealing work and pottery? the place are her liked cats? And who murdered the neighborhood squire...
Agatha's nostril for hassle leads her right into a maelstrom of jealousy, blackmail and unsafe liaisons - and a assassin who plans to maintain irrepressible Agatha completely in Fryfam - as a resident corpse.
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Extra info for Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryfam (Agatha Raisin, Book 10)
Parents and teachers rushed to referee. Janie was freaked, and looked like a freak. Face coated with flaming lip prints, hands trying to kill a camera. I’ve got to get out of here, thought Janie, and she started to plunge down the bleachers, to run for the girls’ room, scrub the lipstick off her face, hide out. Janie had spent plenty of time hiding out: under the covers, in girls’ rooms in New Jersey and Connecticut high schools, behind her hair, behind her silence. “Don’t run,” said Sarah-Charlotte quietly, forcing her back down on the bleacher.
I’m a natural, thought Reeve. Derek Himself put on a CD, turned off the mike and sagged back into his everyday person. Vinnie, Cal and Reeve entered the broadcast room again. Derek scribbled on the playlist taped above the control board, inserted a CD for the next song and checked to be sure he had it on the correct track. “Come on,” said Vinnie, laughing at Reeve in a good-friends, we’re-all-in-this-together way, “we have a broadcast range measured in city blocks. She’s not gonna hear you down in Connecticut.
You see a photograph in the Times of a sister and three brothers you never knew you had? An uncle and an aunt and grandparents…but most of all, a mother and father? But even The New York Times doesn’t know who took you. They only know the family that got left behind. The FBI, the Jersey police, nobody ever had a clue. But you know. It has to be the parents you have right now. Radio is partly about phone calls. Would anybody call in? Would even two or three people bother? The part of Reeve that was conscious of anything beyond the mike was conscious of the phone.