Edinburgh Twilight (Ian Hamilton Mysteries #1)

by Carole Lawrence

We meet again at death’s dark door you have quit this world with its untidy yearnings and disappointments all joy and sorrow drained from your pale face

Crossing the Canongate Ancient footsteps echo through corners of a town accustomed to bloodshed Suffering carved into paving stones The cries of victims seep from its fortressed walls falling like rain upon sleeping inhabitants unwary and snug in their deep unknowing

One thing was certain: time did not move backward. He could never reclaim those days; all he could do was hold them close and lurch into the future.

What had happened to his family was no worse than a hundred tragedies that befell others every day—why linger on the agony? The pain and rage had made a home in his heart, burrowing in like the cat nesting next to him in bed, and he felt powerless to budge it.

Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’” “Beg pardon, sir?” “It’s from The Tempest.” “Shakespeare’s last play, weren’t it?”