By Michael Jecks
Cold-blooded homicide has reworked Simon Puttock's respectable legal responsibility into anything horrid -- and he'll desire the capable counsel of his pal, Sir Baldwin Furnshill, to attract a legal out. A former Knight Templar, Sir Baldwin is aware a lot of accountability and servitude -- and of evil freely indulged within the identify of godliness or greed. Now justice has to be served,even if their seek exposes extortion, foul corruption,rule by way of fear...and killers prepared -- even keen -- to shed extra blood.
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Cold-blooded homicide has reworked Simon Puttock's respectable legal responsibility into whatever horrid -- and he'll desire the capable suggestions of his buddy, Sir Baldwin Furnshill, to attract a felony out. A former Knight Templar, Sir Baldwin is familiar with a lot of accountability and servitude -- and of evil freely indulged within the identify of godliness or greed.
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Extra info for A Moorland Hanging (Knights Templar Mystery, Book 3)
Christopher picked them out at once. Oliver Bale was moving gingerly across the ice while his younger brother, Richard, was skating with a degree of skill on the skates that their father had fashioned out of wooden blocks and straps of leather. Like so many other children on the river, they were enjoying themselves hugely. The parents watched their sons with indulgent smiles. Christopher liked the whole family but he had a particular fondness for Jonathan Bale. In character and in background, the two men had little in common.
Having got him as far as the coat, Thomas felt that he was doing well. 'No,' said Henry, clicking his tongue. ' He held out both arms. ' 'I can hardly put on a blue coat until a green coat has been removed. ' 'No, sir,' said Thomas. 'I merely question the wisdom of dispensing with the green coat. The colour is ideal for you. ' 'Ah,' said Henry. ' Henry appraised himself once more in the mirror. Now in his thirties, he was tall, slim and striking with a long face that was pitted with the signs of dissipation and hair that was vanishing so rapidly that its remaining wisps were hidden beneath an expensive periwig.
You're simply on remand. ' echoed Henry gloomily. ' 'It's too late, Christopher. The worst has already occurred. ' 'Nothing can exonerate me from the torment I've suffered so far,' moaned Henry, running his fingers through the vestigial remains of his hair. 'I was arrested in front of my valet, taken by force from my house, questioned for hours by rogues who had patterned themselves on the Spanish Inquisition, deprived of my wig and most of my apparel, then flung into this sewer. ' Christopher nodded.
A Moorland Hanging (Knights Templar Mystery, Book 3) by Michael Jecks