Deadly Slipper
Chapter One
1
MARCH 2003
"Maradonne," repeated the telephone voice. "I've been referred to you by someone who knows you, or knows of you-Monsieur La Pouge."
The accent was what he called straight-up American. Not a laid-back southern drawl. Not in-your-face New Yorkese, where "talk" rhymed with "squawk." But neutral, the tone slightly urgent.
"Ah," said Julian Wood, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead. He did not know any Maradonne. Or any La Pouge person, either.
"Because of your knowledge of wildflowers."
Julian thought hard. A fellow member of the Societe Jeannette-Daffodil Society-the local wildflower amateurs' club? Or an enthusiast who had come across his book, Wildflowers of the Dordogne/Fleurs sauvages de la Dordogne, what he liked to think of as the bilingual bible on local flora?
He was standing in his slippers on the stone floor of his kitchen, which, since it was the best-lit and largest room of his ancient cottage, also served as his workshop. He fiddled with a sprig of dry-pressed pepperwort that he had been in the process of framing. He wanted to get back to it.
"I ... read full excerpt from: Deadly Slipper ebook
