Flavia de Luce

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie

The Weed That Strings the Hangman's Bag

A Red Herring Without Mustard

I Am Half-Sick of Shadows

Speaking from Among the Bones

The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches

As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust

Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd

The Grave's a Fine and Private Place

The Golden Tresses of the Dead

What Time the Sexton's Spade Doth Rust

Numb Were the Beadsman's Fingers