By Michael Jecks
Cold-blooded homicide has remodeled Simon Puttock's legitimate legal responsibility into whatever horrid -- and he'll desire the capable counsel of his buddy, Sir Baldwin Furnshill, to attract a legal out. A former Knight Templar, Sir Baldwin is aware a lot of accountability and servitude -- and of evil freely indulged within the identify of godliness or greed. Now justice needs to be served,even if their seek exposes extortion, foul corruption,rule by means of fear...and killers prepared -- even keen -- to shed extra blood.
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Extra resources for A Moorland Hanging (Knights Templar Mystery, Book 3)
I glance up. The ceiling has blisters. A couple have popped, and water from the upstairs sink drips onto the floor. I look down at my plate, a hamburger curled up around the edges, weedy-looking spinach, and cheese potatoes, the cheese a little hard. I’d like to mention that I’ve become a vegetarian, excluding spinach, but I’d starve to death. Besides, Pop has veered into his “The boys belong in military school” speech. Linny nods at Pop, then looks at us as if we’ve just escaped from Rikers Island prison.
We may never be back. It’s a sad moment for both of us. But then I shake myself and grab the flashlight. We just have to decide how we’ll exit the house. Either way is dangerous: over St. Ursula’s roof again in the dark, or down the hall without alerting Mom. Luckily Pop sleeps through anything, snoring like a rhinoceros. But Zack brings up a third way. We both vote for that. 38 All we have to do is sneak into Steadman’s room next door. Pop’s rose trellis is right up against the window, so Zack and I can twirl down like a pair of roses going the wrong way.
Instead I go back over the phone calls, the clues. “Olyushka. Original missing from S-T-U. ” “I forgot about the original,” Zack says. ” “We’re missing a few things here. But one thing is sure. Bom/Twin can mean only two things. ” Zack sighs. “Twins. Us. A pair of innocent—” “Not twins,” I cut in. “Twin. Hunt. Me. I’m the innocent—” I never get to finish. Lights go on all over the house. The front door blasts open. I hear Pop’s voice. 43 Heads down, we dig ourselves into the weeds again. A stone drills itself through my stomach, and Pop’s hacksaw nearly cuts my ankle in two.