Something Borrowed, Someone Dead (Agatha Raisin Series #24)by M. C. Beaton
Agatha Raisin knows the truth when she sees it. Now all she has to do is find it...
Gloria French was a jolly widow with bottle-blonde hair, a raucous laugh, and rosy cheeks. When she first moved from London to the charming Cotswold hills, she was heartily welcomed. She seemed a do-gooder par excellence, raising funds for the church and caring for the/b>… See more details below
Agatha Raisin knows the truth when she sees it. Now all she has to do is find it...
Gloria French was a jolly widow with bottle-blonde hair, a raucous laugh, and rosy cheeks. When she first moved from London to the charming Cotswold hills, she was heartily welcomed. She seemed a do-gooder par excellence, raising funds for the church and caring for the elderly. But she had a nasty habit of borrowing things and not giving them back-a teapot here, a set of silverware there. So it's quite the shock when she is found dead, murdered by a poisoned bottle of elderberry wine. Afraid the murder will be a blight on the small town, the Parish councilor hires private detective Agatha Raisin to lead the murder investigation. But the village is secretive...and no one's talking. Of course that doesn't stop the ever-persistent Agatha from sticking her nose where no one wants it-especially as the suspect list grows. And if it isn't enough that Agatha's own ex has reentered the picture, the killer is now targeting Agatha! With Something Borrowed, Someone Dead, M. C. Beaton delivers more of the Agatha Raisin readers can't get enough of.
"M. C. Beaton has a foolproof plot for the village mystery."-The New York Times Book Review
"In [this] lively mystery...Agatha displays a wit and sharp tongue that will continue to please her many fans."-Publishers Weekly
"Beaton has a winner in the irrepressible, romance-hungry Agatha."-Chicago Sun-Times
“As always, M. C. Beaton presents us with an Agatha Raisin who manages to infuriate, amuse and solicit our deepest sympathies as we watch her blunder her way boldly through another murder mystery.” Bookreporter.com on Hiss and Hers
“I know I once vowed to read only Agatha Christie for a year, but I've cheated. My No. 1 mistress: M.C. Beaton and her Agatha Raisin whodunits. Agatha is like Miss Marple with a drinking problem, pack-a-day habit, and major man lust.” Entertainment Weekly on A Spoonful of Poison
“Few things in life are more satisfying than to discover a brand-new Agatha Raisin mystery.” Tampa Tribune
Agatha Raisin solves the case of the obliging villager whose kindnesses didn't keep someone from killing her, perhaps for an excellent reason. When Gloria French first moved to the quiet Cotswold village of Piddlebury, the locals were delighted by her willingness to pitch in by raising money for the church, reading to oldsters and doing many other little jobs nobody wanted to do. So when Gloria's found dead, poisoned by homemade elderberry wine, a member of the Piddlebury parish council hires Agatha to find the killer. Questions quickly arise. Why did a wealthy woman like Gloria borrow things, insignificant or expensive, from her neighbors and refuse to return them? And did this odd habit provide motive enough for murder? Agatha and one of her assistants, taking up residence in the local pub, soon find that many in the village had cause to hate Gloria. They're especially interested in the vicar's wife, who, tired of Gloria's constant flirting, went to her house on the day of the murder to retrieve a borrowed item. The villagers, claiming that the killer must have been a passing outsider, stick to this story even when one of their own swipes a bottle of wine from Agatha's car and is found dead. As usual, man-hungry Agatha is attracted to a handsome stranger staying at the pub. She's livid when her beautiful, clever assistant, Toni, who's often attracted to unsuitable older men, takes off for Spain with Agatha's ex-husband. Although the villagers do their best to freeze her out, Agatha isn't about to let anything stop her from finding a callous killer who's added her to his list of potential victims. Fans of this long-running series (Hiss and Hers, 2012, etc.) will feel right at home and find plenty of mirth and mystery.
M.C. Beaton is one of my favorite cozy authors, and her latest installment will not disappoint her fans. There's just something about the characters and reading the books makes me feel like I'm visiting old friends.
Just like its predecessors, [Something Borrowed, Someone Dead] provides plenty of twists and turns to keep the reader guessing.
Read an Excerpt
Something Borrowed, Someone Dead
An Agatha Raisin Mystery
By M. C. Beaton
St. Martin's PressCopyright © 2013 M. C. Beaton
All rights reserved.
The recession was biting deeper into private detective Agatha Raisin's finances. The bread-and-butter work of her agency, the divorces, missing teenagers, even missing dogs and cats, was drying up as people preferred to go to the police for free help, and men and women in unhappy marriages opted to wait before paying Agatha to find proof of evidence for divorce.
Her agency staff consisted of two young people, Toni Gilmour and Simon Black, as well as retired policeman, Patrick Mulligan, elderly Phil Marshall, and secretary Mrs. Freedman.
Despite the hard times, Agatha could not bring herself to lay any of them off. She spent more time at her cottage in the village of Carsely in the Cotswolds, smoking, drinking gin and tonic and playing with her cats, Hodge and Boswell. Her ex-husband, James Lacey, who had the cottage next door, wrote travel books and was often absent, her police detective, Bill Wong, was too busy to call, and her other friend, Sir Charles Fraith, had not called on her for over a month.
So one sunny morning, instead of going into the office, she trudged up the road to the vicarage to pay a call on her closest friend, Mrs. Bloxby, the vicar's wife. The two women were in sharp contrast. Mrs. Bloxby wore old-fashioned "lady" clothes: drooping skirts and blouses in summer and washed-out woollens in winter. She had brown hair, mild eyes, and very beautiful hands. Agatha had bearlike eyes in a round face. She had very good skin and glossy brown hair worn short. Her figure was quite good apart from a rather thick waistline and her legs were excellent.
"Come in, Mrs. Raisin," she said. "I've just made some coffee. We can have it in the garden." Both women addressed each other by their second names, a practise once used by the now defunct Ladies Society.
Agatha sat in a chair in the sunny vicarage garden. Behind the garden wall lay the church graveyard, old mossy tombstones reminding one detective in her early fifties that life was fleeting.
Mrs. Bloxby came out to join her, carrying a tray with the coffee and a plate of Eccles cakes.
"I made these this morning," said the vicar's wife.
"I'd love one but I can't," said Agatha gloomily. "All this inactivity is going straight to my waistline. Oh, what the hell!"
She picked up a cake and bit into it.
Mrs. Bloxby looked at her friend anxiously. She felt she could hardly pray to God to send down a case for Agatha, as that possibly would involve a lot of misery for some people. Her husband often complained that people shouldn't pray for specifics, but, thought Mrs. Bloxby, there was often comfort in trying because the answer could be "no" but, on the other hand, something might happen.
Scotland Yard once claimed that some people are murderees. Mrs. Bloxby could not have imagined that in a village not far away from Carsely was a widow who would cause such hatred as to spur someone to murder her and give Agatha Raisin a new case.
* * *
Mrs. Gloria French lived in the village of Piddlebury, a charming place of old cottages, nestling in the Cotswold hills. She was a jolly widow with dyed blond hair, rosy cheeks and a raucous laugh. The perpetual smile on her wide mouth never quite reached her prominent pale blue eyes. She had recently moved to the Cotswolds from London and had thrown herself into village life with great energy. She baked cakes for the Women's Institute. She delivered the Church Times. She organised parties to raise money to repair the old church. In short, she seemed indefatigable.
Gloria's cottage had a thatched roof and latticed windows. The latticed windows were a recent addition, Gloria thinking that plain glass was not, well, cottagey enough. Nestling among the profusion of flowers in her garden were plastic gnomes.
Inside, the living room and kitchen were decorated with many copper pans and fake horse brasses. Some bad watercolours hung on the walls, Gloria being an enthusiastic amateur artist. "If you are very good," she was fond of saying, "I will give you one of my pictures," but the ungrateful villagers hoped they were never going to be considered good enough.
She favoured tight dresses of shiny material over a body stocking, giving her figure a sausage-like appearance. Gloria was determined to marry again. She ruthlessly pursued the few eligible men in the village with the exception of Jerry Tarrant, head of the parish council, who had complained about the amount of scent she wore by saying, "We're supposed to get a whiff as we walk past you, not when we drive past you at sixty miles an hour," for Gloria sprayed herself daily from top to bottom in L'Air Du Temps.
Everyone hoped she would settle down, as they were used to newcomers trying to take over and immersing themselves in what they believed was village life.
The vicar, Guy Enderbury, however, was delighted with her efforts. Not only had Gloria raised a healthy sum of money for the church restoration but also she read to the elderly and took them on shopping trips.
He found it hard to understand why she was becoming so unpopular, and appealed to his wife, Clarice.
Said Clarice, "She's pushy, but it's not only that. She borrows things and doesn't give them back. When people ask for their belongings, she swears blind the items are her own property."
Such was the case. The items were hardly ever very expensive, a teapot here, a set of knives there, things like that.
Had she not been such a formidable character, people would have stopped lending her things, but when she loomed up on their doorsteps, they often weakly gave in, just wanting to be rid of her.
As Agatha was drinking coffee with Mrs. Bloxby, Gloria applied another slash of red lipstick to her large mouth and headed for the cottage of Peter Suncliff. Peter was a retired engineer and a widower. He was a tall powerful man in his early sixties with a good head of white hair and a craggy face. Gloria considered him top of her list as husband material.
He opened the door and looked down at Gloria. "What?" he demanded curtly.
"The vicar's calling round and I am out of sherry," said Gloria. She tried to move past him, into his cottage, but he barred the way. "I wondered if I could borrow a bottle."
"There's no need for that," said Peter. "The village store is still open, or had you forgotten? They sell sherry. Or had you forgotten that as well?" And, with that, he slammed the door in her face.
Gloria turned away, baffled. Then she thought he was probably shy and was frightened of betraying his real feelings.
She was just leaving when she was accosted by Jenny Soper. Jenny was also a widow, small and dainty, with a good figure and a round face with dimples under a head of curly black hair. "Oh, Gloria," she said. "Do you remember you borrowed a bag of flour from me? Do you mind replacing it?"
"What? Oh, that? What's a bag of flour between friends?"
"We are not friends," said Jenny.
Gloria ignored her and strode on to the village stores. Jenny followed her. "I'm telling you," shouted Jenny, "I want you to replace that bag of flour. Buy one now and give it to me."
"No, I haven't enough money on me at the moment," said Gloria. "Really, Jenny! You're all flushed. What a lot of fuss over a mere bag of flour."
"You're a greedy cow!" said Jenny. "I wish someone would kill you!" She stomped off.
Gloria beamed round at the startled villagers in the shop. "Dear Jenny," she said, shaking her head. "But there you are, the menopause takes women in odd ways."
"Her be too young," said old Mrs. Tripp. "Menopause, indeed. And don't you come reading to me no more. Hear?"
Gloria looked at her, aghast. All the hours she had spent reading to that smelly old woman. "What's more," said Mrs. Tripp, shuffling forward with the aid of two sticks, "you're long past the change yourself, I does reckon."
Gloria could hardly believe her ears. She was in her early fifties and prided herself on looking at least ten years younger.
She smiled at the watching villagers. "The heat does seem to be getting to everyone this morning."
They all turned their backs on her. Gloria was not sensitive, but even such as she felt an air of menace around her, a sort of menace that was as old as the Cotswold hills.
Unlike most Cotswold villages these days, which abound with outsiders, nearly all of the residents were from families who had lived in Piddlebury for generations.
Gloria hurriedly purchased a bottle of the cheapest sherry she could find and made her way home.
The phone was ringing when she entered her cottage and she rushed to answer it.
It was the vicar. "My dear Mrs. French," he said, "I am afraid I cannot join you this morning. Something has come up."
"What?" demanded Gloria.
"What kind of parish business?"
Then clear as a bell, she could hear the vicar's wife shouting, "Have you managed to put her off?"
"I'll tell you next time I see you," said Guy Enderbury. "Got to rush."
And then he rang off.
Gloria slowly replaced the receiver. She needed a drink. But not this filthy cheap sherry. She had the very thing down in the cellar. She went down the narrow stairs. On the floor lay a crate containing a few bottles of elderberry wine. She had organised the refreshments at a Bring & Buy sale at the church hall a month ago. A local farmer's wife, Mrs. Ada White, had contributed the wine to be sold. Gloria, knowing the homemade wine to be especially good, had stolen the crate that Ada had put under the table as a reserve. One bottle at the corner of the crate had a printed label on it she had not noticed before. It read: VERY SPECIAL.
That'll do, thought Gloria. She lifted out a bottle and took it upstairs.
Pouring a large glass, she swallowed a greedy gulp and then gasped. She thought it must have gone off. Her body was racked with convulsions and she vomited violently. Then her bowels gave. She tried to get out of her armchair and reach the phone. But when she stood up, her legs gave out from under her and she fell to the ground. Her vision blurred and the room grew dark as she dragged herself into her small hallway. She made one last effort to raise herself up, but she slipped into a coma.
* * *
Three hours later, Jenny met Peter Suncliff in the main street. The village was really only made up of this one street. There were only two lanes leading off it. The cottages fronted straight onto the street without gardens.
"How are you this morning, Jenny?" asked Peter.
"Still angry. That wretched French woman. She borrowed a bag of flour from me and won't give one back. She goes round the village, borrowing one thing or another, except it isn't borrowing, it's stealing. She never gives anything back. I mean, it's only a bag of flour but someone has to stand up to her."
"I'll come with you," said Peter, who had a soft spot for pretty Jenny.
They walked together to Gloria's cottage and rang the bell. Mrs. Ada White stopped beside them, a shopping basket over her arm. "She often doesn't answer," she said. "I know she stole my elderberry wine but when I went to see her, she wouldn't answer the door although I'd seen her going in a few minutes before I rang the bell."
"Let's just leave it," said Jenny.
"No. It's time she got a real lecture." Peter bent down and shouted through the letterbox. "Open up! We know you're in there."
Then he straightened up, a worried frown on his face. "What's up?" asked Jenny.
He didn't answer but bent down again and this time looked through the letterbox.
He tried the door but it was locked. "Call for an ambulance, Jenny," he said. "She's had a turn. I'll try to break in."
The front door had a glass panel. While Jenny dialled 999 on her mobile, Peter picked up a stone from the street and smashed the glass of the door. He gingerly put his arm through the hole he had made, found the lock and opened it.
Gloria's make-up stood out starkly against the clay of her face. He felt for a pulse but could not find one.
The ambulance took half an hour to arrive. People began to gather outside the cottages.
Two paramedics rushed in while Peter and Jenny waited nervously outside.
One of the paramedics came outside and said, "We've called the police."
"Why?" asked Peter.
"It looks like poisoning. Nothing must be touched."
* * *
Agatha read about it the following day in a local newspaper. Her interest quickened and then died. She could not afford to investigate any case where she could not earn any money.
At the week-end, she was morosely looking at her garden, feeling that she should try to weed some of the flowerbeds, and deciding to sit down and have a gin and tonic and a cigarette instead, when her doorbell rang.
When she opened the door, she found her friend Detective Sergeant Bill Wong on the doorstep. "Come in!" cried Agatha. "I thought all my friends had forgotten me."
"Been very busy," said Bill.
Bill Wong had been Agatha's first friend when she had newly arrived to stay in the Cotswolds. He was the product of a Chinese father and a Gloucestershire mother. He had a round face and almond-shaped eyes and a pleasant local accent.
"Drink?" suggested Agatha, leading the way into the garden where her two cats, Hodge and Boswell, chased shadows across the shaggy lawn.
"Too early for me and too early for you," said Bill, settling himself down in a garden chair. The cats rushed to give him a welcome.
"It's eleven o' clock," snapped Agatha, "and the pubs are open. Don't be a Puritan."
"I'll have a coffee."
When Agatha returned with a mug of coffee, it was to find that Hodge had draped himself around Bill's neck while Boswell lay purring on his lap. Agatha looked sourly at the scene. Her cats only seemed glad to see her when it was feeding time.
"What's new?" she asked, sitting down beside him.
"An odd case over at Piddlebury."
"Oh, the suspected poisoning. Is it poisoning?"
"Seems like it. Still waiting for the results of the autopsy. A preliminary search shows that she had been drinking elderberry wine just before she died."
"Some of that homemade stuff is enough to poison anyone," remarked Agatha.
"But there is no sign of a glass or a bottle. There are about four bottles of the stuff in a crate in the cellar. They've been taken away for analysis. The back door of the cottage was unlocked. Someone must have got in and removed the evidence."
"None so far. She appears to have been the saint of the village, raising money for the church and doing good works all round."
"Give it time," said Agatha cynically. "At first, no one will speak ill of the dead. Was she rich?"
"Very comfortably off. Her house is worth at least half a million. She had a healthy amount of stock shares and a large bank balance. Her husband was owner of a company which manufactured Crispy Crisps, potato chips in all kinds of flavours."
"So who inherits?"
"There's a son and daughter. But they both have alibis and were estranged from mother. Son Wayne was managing director of Crispy Crisps but when her husband died, Gloria sold off the whole business and left him without a job."
"Aha, nothing," said Bill gloomily. "He's got a good job as managing director of a rival company, Neat Nibbles. And he's only twenty-nine. On the day of her death, he was seen around the factory by hundreds of people."
"What about the daughter?"
"Tracey Altrop is married to a wealthy farmer. On the morning of the murder she was down at the church in the village of Ancombe, doing the flowers."
"Could someone have poisoned one of the bottles, knowing she would get around to drinking it eventually?"
"We've thought of that. The wine was made by Mrs. Ada White. Gloria nicked it from a Bring & Buy sale at the church a week ago. When challenged, Gloria swore blind she hadn't seen it."
"So there's a crack in her impeccable do-good character," said Agatha. "If she stole the wine, maybe she stole other things."
Bill smiled. "Wish you were on the case?"
"It would be more interesting than the rubbish I've got to deal with," said Agatha. "I wish someone would pay me to look into it."
"Cheer up. The son and daughter are rich. Maybe they'll ask for your help."
Excerpted from Something Borrowed, Someone Dead by M. C. Beaton. Copyright © 2013 M. C. Beaton. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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I have read the whole series and find these book are very good'
So you have this neighbor who likes to borrow things. And doesn't like to return them. Would you kill her for that? That seems to be the motive behind the death of Gloria French. When the whole village gets up in arms and starts accusing each other, Agatha Raisin is called in to find out who the killer is so that peace can return to the village. The problem is, no one really wants her to solve the case. M.C. Beaton excels at writing the small village atmosphere. Whether it's this series or Hamish MacBeth, I always feel the slightly claustrophobic atmosphere of the insulated country village where outsiders are outsiders and if you weren't born there, you'll never be a local. That atmosphere is thick in this book. As Agatha and her quirky group of friends and associates try to find the murderer, everyone tries to shut them down. Why would a whole village protect a murderer? I love Agatha Raisin and her circle of friends. They are immature, petty, smart, kind, and troublesome. They do things people would never do in real life but this isn't real life. It's fun escapism. It's comfort reading. Agatha Raisin immerses me in British village life and I enjoy every minute of it. I received this from Netgalley and appreciated the opportunity to read and review it.
I enjoyed this book much; fast reading.
Title: Something Borrowed, Someone Dead (Agatha Raisin Series) Author: M C Beaton Publisher: St Martin's Press/Minotaur Books Published: 9-17-2013 ISBN: 10: 141046167X ISBN: 13: 978-1410461674 E-Book ASIN: B00C74WYBA Pages: 302 Genre: Mystery Tags: Cozy With the recession business has fallen off for Agatha Raisin's detective agency. Then an unexpected case comes with the death of a much disliked woman in the village of Piddlebury. Mrs. Gloria French has managed to alienate nearly everyone in the village with her sponging and out right thefts. When Gloria drinks from a bottle of homemade wine she pinched from the Church Sale marked Very Special she finds that she has deceived, bully and intimidated someone for the last time. When medical arrives the police are immediately called and it is determined Ms. Gloria French was murdered by poison. Jerry Tarrant, head of the Piddlebury parish council, hires Agatha's agency to find Gloria's killer so that his village can resume its tranquil atmosphere. At present everyone is suspicious of everyone else. When Agatha arrives in the village she finds the vicar in denial as to the type of woman Gloria was. To him she may have been a saint, but everyone else, the vicar's wife included, she was a pill that was getting harder and harder to swallow. Agatha acquires a bottle of Elderberry wine which is stolen from her car by the local poacher, Craig Upton. The following morning he is found dead from poison just like Gloria. It seems the murderer has claimed a second victim. Is the killer after Agatha or is he just interested in killing anyone he can? Could the farmer's wife be brewing homemade death to give to her friends and neighbors? The body count continues to rise. Who will be next? Will Agatha live to expose the killer? Or will she be numbered among the dead before she can solve the case? You will find this an exceptional offering of the Agatha Raisin series. I found Agatha to be her usually crusty self and still as searching for love in all the wrong men. As always I enjoyed a return visit with Bill and Charles. The story was very well written and quite enjoyable. It moved at a very quick pace. The new reader of M C Beaton's Agatha Raisin series will enjoy this book immensely. It is a stand alone book, but be sure to check out all the other books in this series as well. Don't be shy, Lord knows Agatha never was.
I have read all of the Agatha Raisin books and absolutely love them. I have not opened this new one yet because I'm saving it for Christmas and am looking forward to it.
I love M C Beaton books...This one is Agatha at her best.
M.C. Beaton continues her long running Agatha Raisin series with this book. Agatha is having a bit of a lull with her detective agency when she is hired to solve the poisoning murder of a woman from the village of Piddlebury. The victim, Gloria French, had made herself very unpopular in the village by her habit of “borrowing” things and never returning them or claiming she never borrowed the items. When she is poisoned, a villager hires Agatha to solve the crime. I have always looked forward to a new Agatha book because I really enjoy her character. What I thought was interesting about this book was that the victim’s situation somewhat mirrored Agatha’s early life in the village of Carsely. It has taken years for Agatha to be somewhat accepted in Carsely and like Gloria, one of her detractors is the local vicar. Agatha and her staff go to Piddlebury and start working the case which gets even direr when there is a second poisoning of a local poacher. As usual, Agatha pushes her way through the case and aggravates the villagers with her brusque manner. She finds a good looking visitor to focus her latest crush on and ends up getting shown the door by the village and the man who hired her. Agatha gets her killer in the end but it is a tough process for her to crack the case. All of the favorite characters make an appearance in this story and her ex-husband James adds an interesting twist to the plot with a possible romance. I have to say, annoying as she can be, I love to read about Agatha and her interesting take on life and murder.
This is the twenty-fourth book in the Agatha Raisin mystery series. I have not read any of the other books in the series but that did not affect my enjoyment one bit. The book was a quick read, light, and humorous. Agatha is annoying, bumbling, self-centered, man-hungry and thoroughly enjoyable. She may not be the best detective but once she gets a case she sticks with it until she has the answers, even when threatened with death, and of course while annoying many people. I found myself wanting to know more about her past, the other people in her agency, and the men in her life so I’m going to have to read some of the other books in the series. A widow in a nearby town (in the Cotswold in England) is poisoned and Agatha is hired by the Parish councilor to find the murder. Agatha learns that the widow was new to the village. At first she impressed everyone with her good works but then she started borrowing items and not returning them as well as stealing items. When asked, she insisted that all the items belonged to her. Needless to say, most of the town is not sorry she is dead. Agatha’s own life is threatened and a townsperson dies drinking poison meant for her. Agatha and her detective staff stay on the case despite several additional close calls and red herrings. Disclosure: I received this book as part of a Goodreads giveaway on the premise that I would review it.
Believe it or not, this is the very 1st Agatha Raisin book that I have ever read. While I enjoyed the tale of Agatha and her detective friends, I am not sure that I could ever read the entire series. It seemed to me, that this series would be better aimed at the young adult set. Even the names of the towns that the book is set in are childish, Piddlebury? Seriously? But on the other hand Agatha and her mates spent a lot of time in pubs, smoking and enjoying the plentiful gin and tonics, and Agatha does have a roving eye for the men around the country-side. Perhaps if I had found these books and started reading the series earlier I would be an avid fan, as I know many people are. I know that Ms. Beacon has an amazing career and has many devoted fans, so I know that my not reading her books will not do much damage.