Crooked Herring Read Online Free

cutters,’ said Henry.
    ‘And if she hasn’t?’
    ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about,’ said Henry.
     
    Later I briefly contemplated phoning Elsie to ask her advice. Had I done so, things might have been very different. On the other hand, judging by Elsie’s subsequent conduct, things might equally have been exactly the same. Or worse. We’ll never know really. Not now.

CHAPTER TWO
    Amazon.co.uk
    Death in the Cathedral Close

(A Buckfordshire mystery) [paperback]
Peter Fielding (author)
    Customer reviews
    ***** A great traditional mystery 21 April 2009
By Bookworm
I hadn’t come across this writer before, but I loved the book. If you like a straightforward story with no unpleasant surprises and good grammatical prose, then this one is certainly for you. An excellent book to take to bed and lull yourself gently to sleep. No hesitation in awarding Mr Fielding five stars. Bravo!
    **** Very Good Value 3 September 2009
By M Smith REAL NAME
I found this in an Oxfam shop and bought it for 30p. I’ve taken the price into account in marking it four stars. At full price maybe only three.
    ***** A Fine Police Procedural 12 December 2009
By ‘Churchman’
Peter Fielding’s latest book is well up to the standard of the previous ones. Sgt Fairfax is baffled by the discovery of a body outside the cathedral on Christmas Eve. Is it a tramp who has died of cold or is it ritual murder? Fielding allows the plot to unfold in his usual leisurely manner, with many interesting diversions into church architecture and history. Can’t recommend it strongly enough.
    * Total Rubbish 15 December 2012
By Thrillseeker
Anyone able to stay awake as far as page 7 will have guessed the denouement of this slim volume by Ethelred Tressider, writing here as Peter Fielding. Tressider has been penning the Buckfordshire series for some years now and must have exhausted almost every location in the fictional city of Buckford for the discovery of murder victims. This one turns up by the cathedral door, though nobody comments on the similarity with the discovery in an earlier book of a body in a pew in the same building. In Buckfordshire,it would seem, cathedrals are the normal place to recycle dead bodies. You can only conclude that Tressider finds his plots as unmemorable as the rest of us do, which is saying a great deal. I do so wish I could give the book no stars, but one is the minimum allowable. One star it is then.

CHAPTER THREE
    The Old House at Home is no more than a ten-minute walk from where I now live. It is a large but rather cosy pub situated in the middle of the village, just where the main road from Chichester turns abruptly to the left and, rejecting as impractical the idea of fetching up against the dunes of East Head, elects to wander off toward Bracklesham. It is functional rather than picturesque, a Victorian building modernised so often that it has the air of having been constructed at no particular time and to no particular plan. But it has a bright and well-cared for appearance. It is the sort of place you’d readily stop if you wanted to break your journey for a meal, or that you’d call in on with the family on the way back from the beach. It also seemed like as good a place as any to start asking questions.
    I know the barman well enough to call him Denzil andhe knows me well enough to blink a couple of times, frown and call me Mr Treasurer or, on one occasion, Mr Treacle. It’s a tricky name.
    ‘Thanks, Denzil,’ I said as he pushed a half of bitter across the bar. Then I added casually: ‘I suppose you don’t remember who was in on New Year’s Eve?’
    ‘Now you’re asking,’ he said, with total accuracy but little elucidation. ‘Pretty much everybody was in, as you will have noticed yourself.’
    ‘I wasn’t here,’ I said.
    ‘Weren’t you? I could have sworn I served you.’
    ‘The night before, maybe,’ I said.
    ‘Really?’
    If I had been hoping for total recall, this wasn’t it.
    ‘Do you remember