Poisoned Pins (Claire Malloy Mysteries, No. 8) by Joan Hess

By Joan Hess

Claire Malloy balances her tasks as unmarried mom and book shop proprietor opposed to her part-time sleuthing while she investigates the homicide of a neighborhood sorority woman. through the writer of Maggody in new york. 20,000 first printing. nationwide ad/promo. journey.

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Extra resources for Poisoned Pins (Claire Malloy Mysteries, No. 8)

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Following more sedately was her best friend, Inez Thornton, also fifteen but without Caron’s melodramatic flair. Inez is drab and soft-spoken, a perfect counterfoil to my burgeoning Broadway star. Her hair is brown in an oddly colorless way, her face rounded with the vestiges of childhood. The thick lenses of her glasses give her an expression of mild alarm, but if I were in Caron’s wake, I’d look that way, too. ” I said cautiously. ” Aglow with greed, Caron began to dance disjointedly in front of the counter, twirling on one foot and then the other, snatching invisible bills from an invisible money tree.

Was I to be dressed in a pristine pink robe and required to hold a candle while they crooned to me? Would I be rewarded with a pastel cat to take home and nurture? Did they plan on a ritual involving the letting of blood and some sort of irrevocable lifetime relationship? “I’ll… uh, I’ll be back in a minute,” I stammered, then ducked into the cramped office and closed the door before she could sink her sororal fangs into my neck. I’d attended a large university with numerous fraternities and sororities, but I’d done so during the early seventies, when political radicalism overshadowed the dubious rewards of communal living among the reactionaries who were more concerned with future country-club membership than with the war in Vietnam.

Malloy; you must stop in for iced tea and cookies some afternoon. But as for now, I’m afraid I don’t understand why you called the police. ” “She screamed,” I said evenly. “I’m accustomed to a certain amount of noise from this place, but this went beyond girlish squeals and shrieks. ” “It’s quite silly. Debbie Anne was coming in from the library and thought she saw a prowler in the shrubbery. I’ve told the girls again and again not to cut through the side yard when it’s dark, but to stay on the sidewalk where there’s plenty of light, even if it means going an extra few feet.

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