The elderly Emily Pride is perfectly pleased to have inherited an island, even if her starchy pragmatism is ever-so-faintly appalled by the “Pixie Falls” spring and its reported miraculous healing properties. But really, the locals’ attempts to capitalize on the “miracles” are entirely too tacky – Ye Olde Gift Shoppe, the neon signs…not on Miss Emily’s watch, thank you. Of course, the locals are not exactly thrilled to give up their trade (Pixie Falls may be merely be known for healing warts, it’s true, but you take your shillings where you can find them). Could their frustration have bubbled up into murderous rage? Inspector Alleyn will have to sort it out. And this time, it’s personal.
The elderly Emily Pride is perfectly pleased to have inherited an island, even if her starchy pragmatism is ever-so-faintly appalled by the “Pixie Falls” spring and its reported miraculous healing properties. But really, the locals’ attempts to capitalize on the “miracles” are entirely too tacky – Ye Olde Gift Shoppe, the neon signs…not on Miss Emily’s watch, thank you. Of course, the locals are not exactly thrilled to give up their trade (Pixie Falls may be merely be known for healing warts, it’s true, but you take your shillings where you can find them). Could their frustration have bubbled up into murderous rage? Inspector Alleyn will have to sort it out. And this time, it’s personal.