Murder At the Monks' Table (2010)
“—Irish blessing A sharp rap at the front door of the mews woke Sister Mary Helen.
“I’m here to hoover,” a woman’s voice called cheerfully. “Are ye up yet, love?”
“Yes, indeed,” she heard Eileen answer. “One minute, please. We’ll be right there.”
Abruptly Mary Helen’s bedroom door flew open, and Eileen whispered, “It’s Tuesday. The cleaning lady is here.”
“Cleaning lady?” Mary Helen mumbled. “We haven’t been here long enough to get anything dirty.”
Still fuzzy with sleep, she dressed quickly and walked into the front parlor just as a woman who introduced herself as Judy, the cleaning lady, turned on the vacuum.
“Don’t bother with the beds,” she called above the hum, “I’ll change the linens, and mind you, take a sweater.”
Fortunately, Eileen had been able to rescue two cups of coffee and two scones from the kitchen and was settled on a bench just outside the mews. Despite the fact that the sun was out and the morning sky was colored with streaks of ripe apricot, there was a nip in the air.
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
8.9 / 10
9 / 10
User Reviews: