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

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

Dear Simon, Once again, the December 2025 issue had lots of memories to write about. Starting from the front, Gertcha! – I did love Chas and Dave, as did my husband. Of course, the family always watch

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

Look at this, Kerry!” I called over my assistant in the café I owned and ran. “What is it?” she asked. I handed her the letter. “A reviewer from the glossy local lifestyle magazine, Aspire, is arrivin

During my adult life I must have read – strictly for pleasure – hundreds and hundreds of crime novels that were written during the ‘Golden Age of Crime’ (1920s-50s). That’s no exaggeration. And not on