Cressida Fawcett Mystery book 2
A seaside party at a Cornish mansion with plenty of fizz, what could be more perfect? But something fishy is afoot… a killer lurks among the guests, and only Cressida Fawcett can stop them.
When Cressida Fawcett is invited to stay at Penbeagle House on the Cornish coast for a fancy-dress ball, she is looking forward to sipping rum cocktails clad as a pirate, watching the red-sailed boats go by and relaxing in the sea air with her good friend Dotty. But before they can raise their glasses to toast Cressida’s former flame Lord Canterbury’s engagement, he drops dead in front of the horrified guests.
The local doctor determines that Lord Canterbury was poisoned, and soon Detective Chief Inspector Andrews is on his way from Scotland Yard. But Cressida is dismayed by the murder of the intrepid explorer who once asked for her hand in marriage, and she cannot simply leave the case to the police. Together with Dotty and her little pug Ruby, Cressida searches for clues only to discover that many of the guests have a motive for murder. Did an irate journalist or a bitter fellow explorer send Lord Canterbury on his untimely final journey?
And when a young maid is found dead, floating in the shimmering waters of the cove, Cressida knows time is running out to catch the killer. Could aclue hidden among some rather pungent crab sandwiches help her solve the case before there is another murder?
About the Author
Fliss Chester lives in a little village in Surrey, UK, and writes historical cozy crime. When she is not killing people off in her 1920s and 1940s whodunnits, she helps her husband, who is a wine merchant, run their family business. This means she’s never far from a decent glass of something, which makes her very happy indeed.
Before writing her two cozy crime series, she wrote fun and flirty romances – the sort of thing that might make your mother blush. Not hers though, as it was her mother who always encouraged her to be ‘anything you want, darling, as long as it’s not dull’. Hopefully readers will attest to the fact that whether it’s death by cyanide or a smooch in a hot tub, there’s nothing dull about Fliss’s books.