Newly appointed Detective Inspector Gemma James has never thought to question her friend Hazel Cavendish about her past. So it is quite a shock when Gemma learns that their holiday retreat to a hotel in the Scottish Highlands is, in fact, Hazel's homecoming -- and that fellow guest Donald Brodie was once Hazel's lover, despite a vicious, long-standing feud between their rival, fine whiskey distilling families. And the fires of a fierce and passionate affair may not have burned out completely -- on Brodie's part at least, since he's prepared to destroy Hazel's marriage to win back his "Juliet." But when a sudden, brutal murder unleashes a slew of sinister secrets and long-seething hatreds, putting Hazel's life in peril, Gemma knows she will need help unraveling this very bloody knot -- and calls for the one man she trusts more than any other, Duncan Kincaid, to join her far from home ... and in harm's way. “Crombie keeps this series on its toes with her smooth procedural techniques and engagingly eccentric characters.” - New York Times Book Review “Crombie has mastered the genre of Agatha Christie.” - Commonwealth Journal Praise for Leave the Grave Green “... tidily plotted and neatly written... The genuine article.” - Kirkus Reviews “Crombie’s Scotland Yard Superintendent Duncan Kincaid and his sergeant Gemma James make a welcome return... the passages of the first drowning are haunting, the mystery is intriguing, the characters are well developed and the solution satisfies. Stay tuned.” - Publishers Weekly “This deliberate, finely-tuned procedural works on every level... Leave the Grave Green is steady, absorbing and finely detailed at every turn. The true scene stealer is the glittering necklace of tiny English villages, so rich in history, so full of eccentrics, and of course, so deeply involved in murder.” - Mostly Murder Newly appointed Detective Inspector Gemma James has never thought to question her friend Hazel Cavendish about her past. So it is quite a shock when Gemma learns that their holiday retreat to a hotel in the Scottish Highlands is, in fact, Hazel's homecoming -- and that fellow guest Donald Brodie was once Hazel's lover, despite a vicious, long-standing feud between their rival, fine whiskey distilling families. And the fires of a fierce and passionate affair may not have burned out completely -- on Brodie's part at least, since he's prepared to destroy Hazel's marriage to win back his "Juliet." But when a sudden, brutal murder unleashes a slew of sinister secrets and long-seething hatreds, putting Hazel's life in peril, Gemma knows she will need help unraveling this very bloody knot -- and calls for the one man she trusts more than any other, Duncan Kincaid, to join her far from home ... and in harm's way. Deborah Crombie is a native Texan who has lived in both England and Scotland. She now lives in McKinney, Texas, sharing a house that is more than one hundred years old with her husband, two cats, and two German shepherds. Now May You Weep By Crombie, Deborah Avon Books ISBN: 006052524X Chapter One If there's a sword-like sang That can cut Scotland clear O a' the warld beside Rax me the hilt o't here. -- Hugh Macdiarmid, "To Circumjack Cencrastus" Carnmore, November 1898 Wrapped in her warmest cloak and shawl, Livvy Urquhart pacedthe worn kitchen flags. The red-walled room looked a cozy sanctuarywith its warm stove and open shelves filled with crockery, but outside thewind whipped and moaned round the house and distillery with an eerilyhuman voice, and the chill penetrated even the thick stone walls of theold house. It was worry for her husband, Charles, that had kept Livvy up intothe wee hours of the night. He would have been traveling back fromEdinburgh when the blizzard struck, unexpectedly early in the season,unexpectedly fierce for late autumn. And the road from Cock Bridge to Tomintoul, the route Charles musttake to reach Carnmore, was always the first in Scotland to be completelyblocked by snow. Had his carriage run off the track, both horse and driver blinded by the stinging wall of white fury that met them as they came upthe pass? Was her husband even now lying in a ditch, or a snowbank,slowly succumbing to the numbing cold? Her fear kept her pacing, long after she'd sent her son, sixteen-year-oldWill, to bed, and as the hours wore on, the knowledge of her situationbrought her near desperation. Trapped in the snug, white-harled house, shewas as helpless as poor Charles, and useless to him. Soon she would noteven be able to reach the distillery outbuildings, much less the track that ledto the tiny village of Chapeltown. Livvy sank into the rocker by the stove, fighting back tears sherefused to acknowledge. She was a Grant by birth, after all, andGrants were no strangers to danger and harsh circumstances. Theyhad not only survived in this land for generations but had also flourished,and if she had grown up in the relative comfort of the town, shehad n