The dining room ghost

THE door opened and Detective Inspector Liv Nairn and Detective Constable Wayne Taylor climbed out of the pool car. They were each trying not to be impressed by the grand old country manor before them

I’D just started work as a nurse and it was my first time living on my own. I managed to rent a tiny flat in Finchley. It came with a window box, a stray cat that hung around mewing for food, plus a n

FROM its oak panelling to the worn leather chairs, the room was oddly old fashioned. Rather like Ralph Draper himself, Dolly observed, glancing around the private detective’s office. She hadn’t expect

MR Oliver Tait?” the policeman said as he and his companion were shown into the charming sitting-room of a suave man in his thirties or thereabouts. “I’m Detective Inspector Wragge and this is WPC Moo

Not even the dog’s basket was spared a good scrubbing when our columnist’s mum carried out the spring cleaning

Sylvia was bored to tears. She almost wished she’d gone with the others to the garden centre. But she’d had it with garden centres, and what was the point when the gardens here were looked after by pr