[Grasshopper Lawns 08] • Fifteen Sixteen Maids In The Kitchen

You are cordially invited to solve a murder in Scotland. . . RSVP . . .

Classic whodunits are set in country mansions, with a varied group of house-guests and, usually, a body in the library. Purest luck, therefore, that William inherits a rather stately shooting lodge in a remote glen and ropes in Edge, Vivian and Donald to help with the house-party.

The house isn’t conventional – his uncle was a successful illusionist – and is a bit neglected and dilapidated. The mechanical effects can be alarming and, the guests are a bunch of thriller writers with a leaning towards the macabre . . . what could possibly go wrong?

Each book in the Grasshopper Lawns whodunit series is free-standing and you don’t have to have read the others although, with a party of thirteen, it may help if you have. Red herrings, suspects, and secrets abound. There’s humour, suspense, and deer.

Excerpt: *Edge put a mug of milk in the microwave, shivered, and pulled her padded-silk housecoat around herself more tightly. She was in the shadowed pantry reaching for the tin of instant hot chocolate when, over the whirr of the microwave, she heard a sound in the kitchen. Donald had been quick. She put her head round the door to ask him if all was quiet in the house, then froze when she saw Diane sitting at the kitchen table, elbows on it, and her head in her hands in a pose that looked utterly defeated.

Edge hesitated, feeling awkward. Even as she started to withdraw Diane stiffened with a gasp of alarm and got hastily to her feet, staring across the kitchen. In the dim half-light Edge, too, could see a dark slice opening in the floor.

‘In here!’ she whispered urgently and Diane started, then hurried across and slipped through the half-opened door, turning instantly to watch. They both stared in fascination as the trapdoor lifted further and Aubrey’s distinctive silver-streaked dark head appeared. He climbed onto the kitchen floor and lowered the trapdoor with infinite care to drop soundlessly back into place, then glanced up sharply as the microwave pinged loudly into the utter silence. Diane’s fingers closed painfully on Edge’s arm as he looked around, then focused on the pantry door and rocked on his feet as though undecided whether to approach or retreat. They both shrank a half-step backwards, and in the muted light Edge could see that Diane’s eyes were wide and staring. She was quite sure she looked equally as frightened.*