Murder in the woods

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

IT’S time to go to the police again,” Mark said. “That’s what I think.” “We all think that,” Lydia snapped. “We have all got that far, Mark.” The Denzell children glared at each other, then sighed and

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

FROM her vantage point on the top floor of the library, Linda gazed out of the tall windows and could see the traffic crawling along University Boulevard. She could still hardly believe she was here a

TARA clicked off her mobile after phoning the police about the stolen trailer. “Well, they’ve given me a crime number,” she told her mother, who was busy patching holes in horse blankets. “But it’ll p

IT was definitely in the middle pocket. A ten pound note and two fives. “I only remembered it last night when I was peeling the potatoes for dinner. “Of course, you were closed by then.” Mrs Featherst