A Wee Murder In My Shop (A ScotShop Mystery) - Plot & Excerpts
Sinclair was such a dear. She always had a full breakfast ready for me, even though my departure was so early in the morning. I would be exhausted by the time I reached Hamelin, but this trip, what with finding Leslie Farquharson Gordon and her magnificent handwoven pieces, had been particularly rewarding. Ultimately, it would turn out to be highly profitable for both of us. I was sure of that. Then there was the shawl. Mrs. Sinclair placed a well-laden plate in front of me and admonished me to “Eat hearty. Ye’re as light as duck down.” I did as she said, knowing that the airplane food would leave a great deal to be desired. With a big dose of regret that my visit was over so soon, I ate the last bites of my sausage, downed my tea, and wiped my mouth. “Absolutely lovely, Mrs. Sinclair. I cannot thank you enough.” I’d paid my bill the night before. I liked my last morning, short as it was, to flow smoothly without interruption.
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