Murder At The Maples: A Flora Lively Mystery - Plot & Excerpts
Not for him the communal comfort of a retirement village; after a lifetime of being sociable, Flora’s uncle preferred his own company. To him, loneliness was an alien concept. A former councillor and multiple business owner, Max had, he told Flora, had enough of people to last a lifetime. Or what was left of his lifetime, anyway. Flora took the train to Wem, then sat on a low wall to wait for Max to come and pick her up. There was no point phoning – he would either be on his way already or out in the fields. She looked at the sky suspiciously before pulling out her raincoat. Around here, you never could tell. Before long she heard the familiar grinding racket of Max’s ancient Land Rover. He swung into the car park and waved through the open window. ‘Flora,’ he bellowed, ‘how the devil are you?’ She ran across the tarmac and climbed up into the car, hauling the passenger door shut behind her. It closed, then dropped open again, hanging from one hinge only. ‘For goodness sake, Max!
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