Dangerous Pursuits (A Rose McQuinn Mystery No.2) (Rose McQuinn series)
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Rose McQuinn, out walking near her home on Arthur’s Seat comes across the body of a woman in the ruins of St Anthony’s Chapel but when she returns to the scene of the crime, neither body nor the local constable whom she alerted have both disappeared. No one believes her story, not even her lover Detective Sergeant Jack Macmerry of the Edinburgh City Police. But Rose is convinced that a murder has been committed and her ensuing investigation into the mystery soon turns into a game of deadly pursuit.
about that momentary loss of composure. Of course he would be well informed and maybe he already knew the identity of the young man who had died, in what was made to look like an unfortunate accident. Perhaps he had been a Fenian, one of a group of terrorists who had threatened the Throne. Maybe he had been infiltrated into the dock workers to cause more trouble and disruption. But he was dead and as my good Catholic Danny would have said, 'May he rest in peace and rise in glory.' Amen to that.
ago on a school outing - and I loved it. I've never been back, but I've always intended to go there again,' she ended with a wistful sigh. Perhaps it was intended to wring Jack's heart and even wring an invitation out of him. 'You don't have to be formally invited. Ma wants you at her birthday party.' 'I can't come with you. I'm sorry.' Jack was angry. 'Why on earth not?' he demanded. 'This is a very special occasion and the folks are dying to meet you.' I knew what was in his mind and he
precariously and peer inside. Alas for my trouble, it was too dark to see more than the shapes of what were presumably coffins and grave covers. Remembering the melancholy information that the vault would be permanently sealed after the General and his lady were laid to rest therein, a grim but interesting thought came almost unbidden. The perfect place to conceal a dead body... As I stared through the window, my mind backtracked to the mysterious disappearance of Charlie and the hackney cab.
Of equal importance, I saw the answer to how my pursuer from Leith had vanished ahead of me. Not into thin air but by using the 'strictly private' lane at the entrance to Duddingston village. Certain I had hit on the solution to the dead woman's disappearance, I still had to prove it. There was little consolation in knowing how it had been done, but not why or by whom, for I was as much in the dark as ever regarding motive or identities for killer and victim. It was very aggravating indeed. Had
'Ivy or Ida, you told me,' said the dour one reproachfully. 'Could have saved yourself a journey had you given me the correct name in the first instance.' With so much of my evidence at hand to complete the puzzle I guessed that the killer must have forced the lock of the Carthew vault and put the murdered servant inside. The search had narrowed down considerably, to someone with knowledge of Carthew House. At this stage, evidence pointed to the late Peter McHully, former Carthew coachman,