A Bitter Truth (Bess Crawford Mystery, Book 3) - download pdf or read online
By Charles Todd
Attempting to aid a girl in misery, global conflict I nurse and unintended sleuth Bess Crawford learns that no strong deed is going unpunished
whilst battlefield nurse Bess Crawford returns from France for a well-earned Christmas depart, she unearths a bruised and shivering girl huddled within the doorway of her London place of dwelling. the lady has nowhere to show, and propelled through a company experience of responsibility, Bess takes her in.
as soon as within Bess's flat, the girl finds quarrel together with her husband erupted into violence, but she desires to go back home--if Bess will select her to Sussex. figuring out that the lady is being affected by a concussion, Bess provides up a number of important days of go away to commute along with her. yet she quickly discovers that this can be a sturdy deed with unforeseeable consequences.
What Bess reveals at Vixen Hill is a home of mourning. The woman's kinfolk has amassed for a memorial carrier for the elder son, who died of warfare wounds. Her husband, domestic on compassionate go away, is stressful, affected by jealousy and his personal to blame conscience.
Then, while a houseguest is located useless, Bess herself turns into a chief suspect within the case. This homicide will lead her to a deadly quest in war-torn France, an unforeseen best friend, and a startling revelation that places her in jeopardy earlier than a vicious killer might be uncovered.
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Additional info for A Bitter Truth (Bess Crawford Mystery, Book 3)
It was a pleasant change to have others actually envy me my abundance, rather than peer at it with pity in their eyes. I flipped through the garments in my closet without much interest. The cerise wool dress my mother had brought me was too fancy for the occasion, so I finally decided I’d wear a longsleeved garnet silk blouse, a black-and-garnet patterned skirt, and my black pumps. Looking at my collection of glasses—I’m very nearsighted—I had a wild impulse to select my purple-and-white-framed ones.
Finally I stepped in, looking repeatedly from side to side. Martin called from below, but I didn’t answer. My breath was coming too unevenly. The rain began to fall more heavily and the drumming of the raindrops on the stairs made the little apartment feel more isolated. The closet door was open. Clothes, I assumed Regina’s, had been hung inside. Her suitcase was on the dining table, open. Clothes that appeared to have been tossed in rather than packed were flowing over the sides. The bathroom door was flung wide and I could see a jumble of makeup and toiletries on the counter by the sink.
As we turned up our long driveway, my pleasant drowsiness evaporated. Though I couldn’t tell much about it, there was a strange car parked in front of the garage. And Regina’s car was gone. The automatic security light at the back of the house showed, also, that someone had taken Darius’s truck and trailer. I hoped it was one of his children. We didn’t have an automatic security light at the front of the house because it had shone in our bedroom window; we’d had it switched to manual, and we’d forgotten to leave it on when we’d left for the Lowrys’ dinner.
A Bitter Truth (Bess Crawford Mystery, Book 3) by Charles Todd