By Marcia Muller
Appleby Island, as soon as the exceptional domestic of a magnate and planter, is a spot of heritage and secret within the Sacramento delta. Its tale comprises tricks of tragedy, fueling rumors that ghosts nonetheless stroll its derelict orchards. Now Patsy McCone, her new lover, and a bunch of traders are turning the outdated mansion into a chic mattress and breakfast resort. Summoned through her eccentric more youthful sister, San Francisco's number 1 P.I. Sharon McCone arrives within the enamel of a gale, taking a busman's vacation to enquire mysterious acts of vandalism which are operating the undertaking to smash. but if easy sabotage escalates to savage homicide, she unearths herself trapped at the island with a determined killer -- and flung right into a raging hurricane of treachery, violence, and surprising demise.
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Extra info for Eye of the Storm (Sharon McCone, Book 8)
The worst thing we would have to endure was the woman’s unceasing self-absorption. Unfortunately, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Chapter 3 Three days later we were on our way to the Texas Hill Country. ’’ Sophie asked us. ’’ Marylou consulted her map as I kept my hands tight on the steering wheel. The rain, though not too heavy, made me nervous, particularly since I was driving on unfamiliar roads. ‘‘Maybe twenty minutes,’’ Marylou said. ’’ ‘‘Good,’’ Sophie said. ’’ I heartily agreed with her, and I’m sure Marylou did, too.
Sophie, however, took one look at him and assumed a supremely bored expression. He wasn’t her type, and he would find that out very quickly if he tried to get anywhere with her. ’’ ‘‘You still haven’t explained to me what the hell you’re doing here,’’ Paula said. She fairly spit out the words. ’’ ‘‘Tut-tut, Paula, love,’’ Avery said, his voice soothing, as if he were talking to a balky child. ‘‘I know the way your sneaky little mind works. You wouldn’t be here if Basil weren’t here. ’’ He threw back his head and laughed.
Most of the straight ones are, let me tell you. I’ve been to so many of these things, following either Basil or Avery around, I am sick to death of some of these people and the way they behave. ’ ’’ Sophie quirked an eyebrow at me, and I responded in kind. Our time at this bridge retreat could turn out to be interesting in a way none of us had anticipated. The way Paula was talking, it had begun to sound like we had walked onto the set of Peyton Place. ’’ Sophie asked. That was a good question.