A Bone to Pick (An Aurora Teagarden Mystery) by Charlaine Harris

By Charlaine Harris

Moment within the number one long island instances bestselling author's Aurora Teagarden secret sequence. Aurora "Roe" Teagarden's fortunes switch while a deceased acquaintance names her as inheritor to a slightly immense property, together with cash, jewellery, and a home whole with a cranium hidden in a window seat. Roe concludes that the aged girls has purposely left her a homicide to unravel. So she needs to determine the sufferer and determine which certainly one of her new, ordinary-seeming acquaintances is a assassin- with out placing herself in lethal risk.

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PW. A Bone to Pick An Aurora Teagarden Mystery M Charlaine Harris Praise for A Bone to Pick “Harris provides some genuinely funny scenes as Aurora breezily unravels the murderer’s identity . . ” —Publishers Weekly “A pleasant, fast read . . com Real Murders “Real Murders is the first adventure for Harris’s perceptive protagonist and I eagerly look forward to the second . . ” —Carolyn Hart, award-winning author of Set Sail for Murder “An ingenious plot and sufficient flow of blood keep the pages flying in Harris’s novel .

I opened my patio gate singing to myself and hop- ping around happily (I am not much of a dancer) and surprised a strange man in black sticking a note to my back door. It was a toss-up as to which of us was the more startled. It took me a moment of staring to figure out who the man was. I finally recognized him as the Episcopal priest who’d performed Mother’s wedding and Jane Engle’s funeral. I’d talked to him at the wedding re- ception, but not at this morning’s funeral. He was a couple of inches over six feet, probably in his late thir- ties, with dark hair beginning to gray to the color of his eyes, a neat mustache, and a clerical collar.

Maybe Jane had been more “colorful” than I’d realized. Not many little old ladies I knew had fa- vorite murderers. ) As I walked slowly to my car, leaving Jane Engle forever in Shady Rest Cemetery—I thought—I heard someone calling my name behind me. ” panted the man who was hur- rying to catch up. I waited, wondering what on earth he could want. His round, red face topped by thin- ning light brown hair was familiar, but I couldn’t re- call his name. “Bubba Sewell,” he introduced himself, giving my hand a quick shake.

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