Death at the Sign of the Rook (Jackson Brodie #6)

by Kate Atkinson

He supposed she was the sort of woman who thought he was an idiot from the get-go, although he seemed to meet no other kind these days.

He supposed that anarchy, like sex, was best left to the young, as they were blissfully blind to the consequences of both.

The recent dead were tragic, the ancient dead were a mere curiosity.

was easier to believe in the devil than it was in God. The devil was everywhere, whereas God was, clearly, nowhere to be found.

“I’m sure you’re not the only cleric who finds himself an atheist,” his bishop said gloomily when Simon went to him for pastoral advice. “Best just to carry on as if you still believed. I don’t think it makes much difference, to be honest.”

“Just ring the bell if you need anything,” she said, still channelling Sophie. There was no bell, as she knew very well.

He reported that he had “parked” Nanny in one of the pantries, of which they had several for various comestibles—cheese, meat and so on. Now they had one for Nanny. Not that Nanny was a comestible. Not yet.

Much Muttering—that would be a rather good name for a fictional village, Titus thought.