Jacqueline Epton-Howe had heard of an unexplained death on the radio forty miles away as she prepared breakfast. "My story will most certainly be warts and all," she says. "Because that it is exactly how you'll find me and I make no excuses. I'm quite sure the modern thought police and other outraged sensitive souls will find fault with my intelligent yet less than politically correct terminology. If that is the case I'm afraid you'll have to like it or lump it. If this book is not your kettle of fish at all, you can always hand it in to a charity shop or chuck it in the recycle bin." Amber Coetzer had returned home to make an appalling discovery. A few years after her husband had been tragically killed in an accident at work she walked in to find the body of her only child Graeme.

'Back here soon as you can, there's an issue with DNA, ' said Craig Darke. 'How do you mean?' Larsson queried. 'If I tell you, you'll not believe me.' 'Try me.' 'DNA found at the scene belongs to a woman who's been dead eleven years. More than just plain old-fashioned dead, ' Darke said. 'She was murdered.' Back in 2006, Christine Streeter went missing. When her blood was discovered in the flat she shared with Thomasz Borowiak, he was jailed for manslaughter, even though her body was never found. Streeter remained missing, presumed dead, and Borowiak, who never admitted to her killing, is still languishing in jail. Then, in October 2017, after an anonymous tip-off, the police find the body of Mindi Brookes in a house in uphill Lincoln, together with fresh DNA. Of Christine Streeter. In Plain Sight reveals hideous secrets of the past, deadly crimes today, and will pit one woman against another. Lincolnshire Murder Mystery No 8

On the First day of Christmas Allan Townend, the Chief Constable, discovered an oven-ready Partridge from Waitrose wrapped in festive paper on his doorstep at home. On the Second day, having been to watch a local football match, David Lavender, the Deputy Chief Constable, found a card depicting two doves glued to his windscreen. On the Third day another senior police officer had three eggs thrown at his front door. Then as the sequence unfolded in accordance with the centuries old rhyme, five gold coloured curtain rings arrived in a jiffy bag, seven swans were poisoned on the Brayford in Lincoln, and then a magistrate was just one of many subjected to a childish prank, before the whole episode took a dark sinister turn. Should you be eagerly looking forward to a tale about a jolly old fat bearded bloke in a red suit with a few reindeer, you're going to be mightily disappointed. On the Twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me...a dead body. Lincolnshire Murder Mystery No 6

Swedish-born DI Inga Larsson stood in the barn that chilly morning looking down at the body of the poor young wretch. It may now be a world of phones that are too smart and Beats headphones, of kissy-kissy greetings and social media the British public get fussed about. But in some aspects, life has not changed one iota. Being dead is still as dead as it has always been. Two squabbling factions come to the attention of Larsson and her team - not the usual hoodlums or drug gangs. These two outfits are Lincoln's amateur dramatic groups, both overflowing with odd balls, antagonistic miscreants, and eccentrics who refuse to see eye-to-eye. As Larsson digs deeper, she comes face-to-face with homophobic and racist attitudes, with unadulterated snootiness served as a side dish. Has an innocent young woman become embroiled in their dispute in the name of art and paid the price with her life? As Shakespeare put it: Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Read me...Read me...Read me and be hypnotized by me. Let your intellectual nipple be open and free so I may tickle it. You may ask yourself in reading this, "Where exactly is my intellectual nipple?" Then you may say to yourself, "Well, if I don't know where my intellectual nipple is then I guess I'm not very intellectual," and you would be right, you aren't. But the intellectual nipple is quite elusive and ironic, and it is just that last thought that may help you to discover your intellectual nipple. Cary Smith will take you on a ride down his life and mind (and it won't be as creepy as it sounds). Along the way you may giggle, you may hate, you may love, and most likely in the amount of time it will take you to read this book, you will fart...this book does not consider itself prestigious or boring enough to deny that fact. Cary Smith will guide you along the way to possibly having your intellectual nipple tickled. Brad Cruise will uninvitingly add stuff to the text and make corrections as a special guest corrector. And most importantly, your intellectual nipple will be tickled, maybe? And according to Brad Cruise, the key to finding out where your intellectual nipple is is to realize that Cary Smith is poop and a writer not worthy of the very worthy literary world which sometimes makes people very sleepy. Once you have this realization your intellectual nipple will bask in tickling pleasure. (That is, if you consider tickling to be pleasurable, because many people don't, and, in fact, many find it torturous.) Just a warning from this summary: if you do find out where your intellectual nipple is (as everyone's intellectual nipple is not in the same place), it is recommended that you not tickle it too much unless you've had a few cocktails. If you just read this summary and said, "What in the hell?" then you are on your way to a discovery of the elusive intellectual nipple. This summary has exhausted itself and is tired of saying, "The elusive intellectual nipple." Please enjoy The Book, hate it very, very much, or go somewhere in the middle with your opinion of it.

Read me...Read me...Read me and be hypnotized by me. Let your intellectual nipple be open and free so I may tickle it. You may ask yourself in reading this, "Where exactly is my intellectual nipple?" Then you may say to yourself, "Well, if I don't know where my intellectual nipple is then I guess I'm not very intellectual," and you would be right, you aren't. But the intellectual nipple is quite elusive and ironic, and it is just that last thought that may help you to discover your intellectual nipple. Cary Smith will take you on a ride down his life and mind (and it won't be as creepy as it sounds). Along the way you may giggle, you may hate, you may love, and most likely in the amount of time it will take you to read this book, you will fart...this book does not consider itself prestigious or boring enough to deny that fact. Cary Smith will guide you along the way to possibly having your intellectual nipple tickled. Brad Cruise will uninvitingly add stuff to the text and make corrections as a special guest corrector. And most importantly, your intellectual nipple will be tickled, maybe? And according to Brad Cruise, the key to finding out where your intellectual nipple is is to realize that Cary Smith is poop and a writer not worthy of the very worthy literary world which sometimes makes people very sleepy. Once you have this realization your intellectual nipple will bask in tickling pleasure. (That is, if you consider tickling to be pleasurable, because many people don't, and, in fact, many find it torturous.) Just a warning from this summary: if you do find out where your intellectual nipple is (as everyone's intellectual nipple is not in the same place), it is recommended that you not tickle it too much unless you've had a few cocktails. If you just read this summary and said, "What in the hell?" then you are on your way to a discovery of the elusive intellectual nipple. This summary has exhausted itself and is tired of saying, "The elusive intellectual nipple." Please enjoy The Book, hate it very, very much, or go somewhere in the middle with your opinion of it.

The Making of Modern Law: Foreign, Comparative and International Law, 1600-1926, brings together foreign, comparative, and international titles in a single resource. Its International Law component features works of some of the great legal theorists, including Gentili, Grotius, Selden, Zouche, Pufendorf, Bijnkershoek, Wolff, Vattel, Martens, Mackintosh, Wheaton, among others. The materials in this archive are drawn from three world-class American law libraries: the Yale Law Library, the George Washington University Law Library, and the Columbia Law Library.Now for the first time, these high-quality digital scans of original works are available via print-on-demand, making them readily accessible to libraries, students, independent scholars, and readers of all ages.+++++++++++++++The below data was compiled from various identification fields in the bibliographic record of this title. This data is provided as an additional tool in helping to insure edition identification: +++++++++++++++Harvard Law School LibraryLP2H005830018900101The Making of Modern Law: Primary Sources, Part IIPort Townsend: Morning Leader Steam Printing House, 1890106 p. 8voUnited States

Harry Rusper, a trader in other people's discarded golden trinkets, has been discovered dead by his wife in their kitchen just outside Lincoln, with a claw hammer embedded in his skull. At the same time in the cathedral city, Harry's younger brother has had his home ransacked while he dined out in a local restaurant. Is the timing sheer coincidence or had Danny been at home would the same fate have come knocking on his door? Swedish born DI Inga Larsson realised right from the outset that this wasn't a run-of-the-mill domestic gone badly wrong. She knew for certain that this Harry Rusper was just as dead as any other murder victim, but with gold as a defining issue. Inga had to consider that this could very well be a case of both brothers being made to pay the price for Harry's brash dealing indiscretions. Her hunt for the killer and the truth will lead Inga down a road she could never have imagined. A road that will unleash a secret which, if revealed, would make headlines across the world.

Maggie Sneath's young nephew Barney has been doing renovation work out at Pingletoft Farm when he phones her to say the body of her pig-man husband Charlie has been discovered in a barn. A pig-man dead in a barn out in the flat wilds of Lincolnshire was a situation just ripe for a belligerent detective who never messes about, will leave political correctness with the fast-track graduate clever dicks back in Lincoln, crack a few yokel's heads together, sort out these country bumpkins and get it all done and dusted as soon as. Somebody somewhere had other ideas. Detective Chief Inspector Craig Darke has decided to send a woman! Lincolnshire Murder Mystery No 3

If you were a childless couple absolutely desperate for a family of your own and were offered a little blonde girl for GBP15,000 with no questions asked, what would you do? That's the dilemma facing DCI Luke Stevens, who already knows that once that little girl reaches puberty she will be snatched back for the sex trade, and there is absolutely nothing the couple can do, nobody they can turn to. This is 2012 and Stevens knows this awful trade in innocent children is about to start again in Skegness in the height of summer just when officers are being dragged away to help out at the Olympics. To make matters worse one of his team gets a call about a Lincoln University student found dead in a ditch, a crime that will be linked to another female on the internet determined to kill herself, and a man whose girlfriend was murdered in cold blood in Lincoln High Street. Where will Stevens' priorities lie?

Back in late 2011 a young woman, separated from her partner with a young son upstairs asleep in bed, had been killed in Lincoln by somebody who, it appeared, she had invited into her kitchen at night. March 2012 and to the north of the cathedral city another young woman with a child has been strangled just outside her back door. Once again there is no rhyme or reason, DNA, forensics or any connection. DCI Craig Darke's troubles have just doubled. Then there's the death of a twin to turn his brain inside out. His troubles have just doubled again. Without warning a beautiful redhead from his teenage years turns up right out of the blue to set his heart racing. This highly respected and successful policeman is thrust headlong into memories of paddling in the sea, eating jelly and ice cream and going to the pantomime. Is kissing a girl he last saw when she was thirteen, enough to bring his whole world crashing down around him? A Lincolnshire murder mystery