Park Lane South, Queens (Claire Breslinsky Mystery, Book 1) by Mary Anne Kelly

By Mary Anne Kelly

Home for the 1st time in a decade, a photographer is sucked right into a homicide investigation

Claire dozes within the hammock at the entrance porch of her kinfolk domestic in Queens, baking within the early morning warmth, and rarely glances up while a automobile drives via. Ten years in the past, she misplaced her brother, a rookie cop who made the error of attempting to cause with a mugger, and he or she left domestic to shuttle the realm. Now she is again, digital camera in hand. the kids of the Breslinsky household—a cop, a photographer, a journalist, and a wierd little boy—live in a kingdom of conscientiously managed chaos. yet anything is ready to throw the entire local into entire disarray, the Breslinskys included.

The physique of a tender boy is located within the woods, molested, overwhelmed, and murdered. Claire can have obvious the killer using away, and her look for him will placed her kin without delay within the line of fireside.

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Additional info for Park Lane South, Queens (Claire Breslinsky Mystery, Book 1)

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Morton reached out and tugged his coat sleeve. “Come along, Jimmy,” he said softly, feeling, himself, both sorrow and guilt. Half-reluctantly, the young man turned away, and they pushed through the crowd, which was suddenly abuzz with chatter, and even laughter. But neither Morton nor Presley shared in this odd sense of release. They went quite a distance before a hackney-coach presented itself. Morton quietly gave the driver the address of the Bow Street Magistrate's Court, not wanting anyone in the crowd to hear.

Morton saw despair written there, but defiance as well, and anger. “Here's a pleasant diversion for you,” the condemned man hurled out, “watching old Caleb Smeeton and his good wife hang! ” He paused and Morton thought the man would break down, but he went on, strangely calm. “But how did those fine Bow Street men know where to nab us? Just where to be, and at what hour? ” he bitterly answered his own question, and glared out at the crowd. “Friends like you … “Aye, one of our own peached on us… the same as told us about the panney, and what hour the owner would be away.

Acton hesitated. ” The jarvey's shoulders sagged. “Off Cartwright Square,” he said. ” Morton mulled it over a moment more. “What is it you're not telling me, Ralph? ” “Nay, nay. ” The jarvey shifted from foot to foot. Morton stared hard at the man, but it had only the effect of causing him to shift more rapidly. The Runner drew out his hand, with a single shilling in it, which he turned reflectively in his fingers. “I will find out what happened to Mr. Glendinning, Ralph, you may be sure of that.

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