Honey Bea's Casebook - All Spa None

Honey Bea's Casebook - All Spa None

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Jul 9, 2014
When a spate of petty thefts at the award winning Whittleford Park Country House and Spa takes a more sinister turn, uppermost in owner Edwin de Courcy's mind is to avoid any adverse publicity. The targets of what the Whittleford staff have dubbed 'The Bunny Boiler' are proving difficult to buy off with complimentary fruit baskets and luxury spa treatments. All the victims fall into that certain category of uber-fit, wealthy, forty-something women who religiously spend two hours a day in the gym and whose line-free, plump lipped, arch-browed faces could best be described as 'rabbit in headlights' (if said faces could express an emotion as complex and movement dependent as surprise). What de Courcy needs is someone willing to put themselves in the face of danger, a woman willing to immerse herself, undercover, in the pampered world of the Whittleford guest. What de Courcy needs is a honey trap. What he needs is Honey Bea, Private Investigator.
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"Walk into my parlor," said the spider to the fly. "'Tis the prettiest little parlor that you ever did spy." He was the villain. She was the hero. That was all Agent Hayes ever needed to get the job done. Born into a legacy of national service, codes, rules, and laws were etched into her very bones. Right and wrong might be matters of perception, but the law was absolute. The law was order. Yet, with every brush against the elusive criminal, her once-unshakable worldview trembled. Deception was second nature to her in undercover work. She had dismantled empires of evil with nothing more than a smile. Veterans of crime had been reduced to nothing, undone by their failure to see her coming. But this time, in a twisted game of I-spy, even with all her skills and strategies, she still couldn't catch the fly. She set out to unravel a single thread of lies, but for each one she pulled, ten more tangled knots appeared. The deeper she delved, the darker and more treacherous the path became-until, in a moment of piercing clarity, she realized the truth: she wasn't the one spinning the web. She wasn't the spider at all. She was the fly. And he was the Spider King.

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