By Alexander Campion
Très stylish Parisian Commissaire Capucine Le Tellier units off on a looking vacation that proves lethal for greater than simply the pheasants. . .
Before Capucine and her husband, exceptional meals critic Alexandre de Huguelet, even arrive at her oncle's 16th-century château, a deadly looking twist of fate has disillusioned their idyllic vacation spot. what is intended to be a calm bon voyage to the countryside--rustic picnics, dinners en plein air, and naturally, a sip or of Calvados--quickly sours as extra "accidents" befall the site visitors. however the neighborhood gendarmerie lack the investigative finesse to attract any conclusions, not to mention suspects, forcing Capucine to puzzle out the crimes herself. And while the our bodies bring about a celebrated farm animals ranch, the stakes upward push past small-town grudges to the fight surrounding France's such a lot liked gastronomic traditions.
"[A] nation-state romp." --Kirkus Reviews
Praise for Alexander Campion's Crime Fraiche and The Grave Gourmet
"This new sequence deals a uniquely mixed mixture of ‘hooks' that would entice a large choice of poser lovers." --Booklist
"A banquet of crime with a soupçon of connoisseur delight." --RT e-book Reviews, four Stars, on Crime Fraiche
"Full of a laugh characters. . . Readers will need a moment helping." --Publishers Weekly on The Grave Gourmet
"An magnificent debut that increases the bar on trendy detective novel." --Aram Saroyan on The Grave Gourmet
Read Online or Download Crime Fraiche (Capucine Culinary Mysteries) PDF
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Additional info for Crime Fraiche (Capucine Culinary Mysteries)
The pharmacie was the only option as there was no doctor in the village. The pharmacist, Monsieur Homais, a grimly serious-looking man in his early sixties, examined the beater’s wounds with theatrical concentration. ” Capucine smiled at the joke but couldn’t help remembering Oncle Aymerie’s dismay at yet another bloody accident on the heels of a fatality. ” Capucine asked. “Madame, even I cannot treat the deceased. ” He produced an oversized magnifying glass and continued his examination, holding the tip of the man’s chin with two fingers to rotate his face left and right as was needed.
The atmosphere was even more aggressively jovial than an art gallery opening. Capucine was far less than pleased at the idea of running the gauntlet between the parked cars. The bubble of her bucolic contentment had already been rudely popped, and now she was going to be subjected to one of those horrible country moments when people she had no memory of would know all there was to know about her. Perfect strangers would tell her how much she had grown and what a pretty little woman she had become.
It was not clear to Capucine if the comment was directed at the desecration of a noble wine or the tragic death. “It was a partridge drive,” Oncle Aymerie said. “The guns were stationed at the top of a hill in a semicircle and the birds started up the incline a bit low but they quickly gained altitude. Somehow—it’s really not clear to me exactly what happened—this man Gerlier was hit in the chest. I suppose someone must have fired very carelessly from one of the ends of the line. ” Gauvin, at the ready, anticipated Oncle Aymerie’s authoritarian finger wave and filled his glass unprompted.