As delightful as the previous five, this book finds us in the month of November as we return to the drizzly Southbourne, where the air should be thick with festive fizz but is instead laced with suspicion and a dash of danger. Our intrepid trio—Fiona, the sharp-witted organizer; Daisy, the unflappable optimist; and Partial Sue, the gloriously grumpy glue—man their Dogs Need Nice Homes charity shop amid a town terrorized by the shadowy "Southbourne Stalker." Footfall's fallen faster than autumn leaves, and the inaugural Christmas market is meant to be the merry miracle: twinkling fairy lights strung through whispering pines, the warm waft of cinnamon churros, and steaming mugs of mulled wine that promise to thaw even the frostiest hearts.
But alas, cheer curdles into chaos when a bloodcurdling scream pierces the pine-scented peace. Postmaster Scott Preston is hammering at a locked cabin door—his father's trapped inside, in dire straits. Too late: the elder Preston is found lifeless, the scene suspiciously spick-and-span for a man who wouldn't know "tidy" if it bit him on the bum. The police? Quick as a wink, they dub it suicide. Scott? Not buying a bar of it. Enter our sleuthing septuagenarians, roped in by not one but *two* desperate pleas to unravel this locked-room lollygag of a mystery. With suspects slinking about like escaped elves and clues knottier than fairy-light snarls, the ladies must mince through malice before another soul snuffs it under the mistletoe.
Bolland weaves a web that's equal parts heartwarming and hair-raising—think locked-room conundrums with a side of sausage rolls and sly seaside banter. The characters? Positively peachy: Partial Sue's deadpan quips had me chortling into my cuppa, while Simon Le Bon (yes, *that* Duran Duran nod for the dog) steals scenes with his floppy-eared charm. Rain-lashed high streets and high jinks aside, this cozy caper grapples with gritty realities like shuttered shops and community grit, elevating it above the usual Yuletide fluff. I devoured it in one snowy sitting (well, rainy one, anyway), gasping at twists I never clocked and sighing contentedly at the resolution. New to Southbourne? No sweat—you'll feel like a local by page three. A cracker of a finale that leaves you craving mince pies and more mysteries. Five steaming mugs out of five—pour yourself a hot toddy and tuck in!
You can order a copy here – what a great gift this would be!
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