Anything But Civil (Hattie Davish Mysteries) (A Hattie Davish Mystery)
Traveling secretary Hattie Davish and her trusty typewriter alight on a small town in Illinois, where the Civil War may long be over, but certain mysteries refuse to be buried. . .
Hattie Davish is delighted to be ably assisting her wealthy employer, Sir Arthur Windom-Greene, an English scholar who is fluent in Civil War history and hard at work putting together a definitive biography of General Cornelius Starrett. Their research takes them to Galena, Illinois, where they quickly learn that time has done little to heal old battle wounds. Distrust and betrayal seem to linger in everyone's minds, none more so than the General's pompous son Henry. And Hattie is certain he has something to do with a string of bizarre incidents in town--especially when he turns up dead. . .
Between her work for Sir Arthur, preparing for Christmas, and unscheduled visitors from her past, Hattie hardly has time to investigate a murder, but soon she is lost in a labyrinth of secrets and deceit that leads to more questions than answers. Henry had a knack for finding trouble and making enemies, and there's no shortage of suspects--including Sir Arthur. Now, Hattie must uncover the truth while maintaining her civility in a most uncivil situation. . .
Praise For A Lack Of Temperance
"Delightful. . .cozy fans will eagerly await Hattie's next adventure." --Publishers Weekly
"This historical cozy debut showcases the author's superb research. Readers will be fascinated. . .this is a warm beginning." --Library Journal
Day, share our short rations of rancid bacon and hardtack with the worms, use our rifle butts to crush coffee beans, sleep out in the rain with only our coats to cover us, and yet we enjoyed ourselves capitally,” the old one-legged, bearded soldier said. “Damn near got myself killed three times over,” another said, “but I’d have to agree with Rufus here. I had one hell of a time!” Unlike the other veterans, Lieutenant Triggs did not smile nor did he nod his head in response. “But you were at.
Vanished as I walked along Main Street this morning. As I peered into storefronts, I could see shopkeeper after shopkeeper restocking shelves, sweeping floors, washing windows, lighting stoves, all in preparation for the start of the business day. But Killian & Sons was dark and empty. I peered through the window when I passed, hoping to see movement inside. All was still. This was one store that wouldn’t open today despite Christmas being only a few days away. What if I’d been wrong? Could a.
Man. I stopped to look back at Walter, who had covered Henry back up in his coat. If I hadn’t seen the wound, I would’ve thought Henry Starrett had simply fallen ill and Walter was tending him. But I knew different. It was a tableau out of a nightmare, by gaslight. Walter, the man who I was becoming more than fond of, stood in blood-splattered, trampled snow at the base of the statue of a war hero next to the body of a dead Santa Claus. I didn’t look back again. CHAPTER 20 “You did right,.
Mott said, nodding his head furiously. He turned to me with hope in his eyes. “Yes, at the Christmas thing. That’s when I gave it all back.” “Hattie?” Walter whispered. “Mr. Mott is telling the truth, gentlemen,” I said. “After Henry Starrett’s death, General Starrett discovered that all of the stolen money had been returned.” “Good to hear we can trust you after all, Mott.” Mr. Carter tipped his head. “My apologies.” Instead of appreciating my aid, Mott glared at me, pushing his spectacles.
Pinecones, glass ornaments in a myriad of colors, shapes, and sizes, icicles made of silver foil, and strings of whole cranberries and unwrapped hard candy in rainbow hues. All that was missing was the wrapped presents and the angel that I’d purchased out of my own wages. It waited for Sir Arthur to do us the honor. It was the most spectacular Christmas tree I’d ever seen. Everyone who walked by exclaimed how lovely it was. Sir Arthur would be proud. “It’s great, Hattie,” Lieutenant Triggs.