Death Beside the Seaside (Lady Hardcastle Mystery, #6)

by T.E. Kinsey

‘Well, now,’ she said. ‘My Russian is a little rusty—’ ‘I told you: you need to pat him dry with a towel and then thoroughly oil him before you put him away. It’s no wonder he gets rusty.’

And yet I can still think of nothing more gloriously giddy than plodding along the sand on the back of a donkey on a sunny summer’s day. Preferably a donkey called Diego Hernandez. One of his forelegs should be a slightly different colour from the other, and he should be prone to bouts of melancholy as he contemplates the shortness of summer and the fragility of happiness.’