Ever since televisionas aAntiques Road Showa passed by that way, the inhabitants of Mr Mosleyas patchathe hill country of the Yorkshire-Lancashire borderahave become avid collectors of bric-a-brac. And Dickie Holgate, with a junk-cum-antique stall in the market-place of the little town of Bagshawe Broome, is doing very well as a result. That is, until Mosley spots one or two items of doubtful provenance among the chromium-plated teapots and bone-handled cutlery. Reducing his superiorsaespecially Detective-Superintendent Tom Grimshawato a state of nervous prostration, and accompanied by an admiring, if uncomprehending, Sergeant Beamish, Mosley, in his black homburg and overcoat, strolls through scenes of ever-increasing comic confusion to a final satisfying denouement. What, Me, Mr Mosley? is the sixth, and sadly, the last, of John Greenwoodas Inspector Mosley novels. In its humour, wit, and nicely judged North-of-England atmosphere, this is a fitting and worthy conclusion to the series. John Greenwood is the pseudonym of John Buxton Hilton, writer of both the Inspector Simon Kenworthy and Inspector Thomas Brunt series.a#39;Can you tell me anything about the owners?a#39; a#39;Never saw them. ... Odometer said 90, 000 odd miles a but who knows how many times the bugger had been round ?a#39; a#39;Did you not report it to the ... It didna#39;t seem theya#39;d taken any notice the first bloody time.a#39; a#39;You can tell me what make it was?a#39; a#39;Ford Classic. Brown. Shit brown .
|Title||:||What Me, Mr Mosley?|
|Publisher||:||Pan Macmillan - 2012-07-19|