By David Handler
A typhoon is brewing in Dorset. Poochie Vickers, the neighborhood aristocrat, is turning into much more eccentric in her outdated age. She's taken up shoplifting and reckless using yet refuses to work out a physician. Her worrisome daughter, Claudia, is angling to take over the relatives fortune, which makes a few of the would-be beneficiaries uneasy. of Dorset's largest troublemakers are being published from legal. And the undesirable blood among those households, wealthy at the one hand, swamp Yankee at the different, might come to a boiling aspect: adolescents from the households are relationship, to no one's satisfaction yet their very own. an individual is sure to snap, and an individual does, leading to the brutal homicide of a innocuous and homeless guy who went approximately city gathering recyclables. whereas Des is attempting to trace down the assassin, she's additionally attempting to wrap her head round the proposal of marrying Mitch. whilst such a lot of issues are going improper, loving anyone feels like a tremendous risk.Handler's 5th novel during this fascinating and edgy sequence monitors his deftness in developing memorable, unique characters and for crafting uniquely enjoyable mysteries.
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Extra info for The Sweet Golden Parachute
Always accusing the merchants of overcharging him. Which they’d never do on account of Poochie. That lady is beloved. And Eric is a terrific fellow. ” Mitch noticed that Rut did not say one word about Claudia. “But the Ambassador was real big on leaving people nasty little notes. What the hell kind of a diplomat is that? No wonder this country’s in such a mess. He’s the reason for the bad blood between the Vickers and the Kershaws. Milo and his missus, April, used to do for Poochie and Coleman at Four Chimneys.
It was still dark out when Pete started his way along the shoulder of Big Brook Road. Pete was not quiet. People could hear him and his empty trailers coming from a half-mile away in the predawn country silence. He pedaled, wool knit cap pulled low over his eyes and ears, jacket buttoned up to his throat. It was maybe a degree or two above freezing, and the headlights on the occasional passing car revealed a dense early morning fog. It was supposed to turn warm today, maybe warm enough to melt some of the hard, grimy snowbank that the plowman had built up along the shoulder.
Not that it’s anyone’s damned business. Bement’s over twentyone. So is Justine. ” Rut shifted around in his chair, sighing. “Mitch, she’s like a granddaughter to me. Prettiest little thing you ever saw. Has a mouth on her like you wouldn’t believe. Got that from Milo, I guess. I’m real concerned there’ll be a kerfuffle now that the brothers are getting out. Not that I’m asking you to get in the middle. ” Rut frowned at him. ” “I’m telling you she’s still hot and I’m still heavy. ” Rut peered across the table at Mitch doubtfully.