Frenssh-fry
Can you stand on your legs? Sydelle Pulaski asked. Can you walk at all?People never asked Chris those questions; they whispered them to his parents behind his back. N-n-no. Why?What better disguise fo...
Smiling without good reason is demeaning.
Friday was back to normal, if the actions of suspicious would-be heirs competing for a two-hundred-million-dollar prize could be considered normal.
Hello, Jake, I'm glad you could come, Sunny (as Madame Hoo was now called) said, shaking the hand of the chairman of the State Gambling Commission.Boom! Jake Wexler replied.
Hey Chris, bet you don't know the Latin name of the red-headed woodpecker.That was a hard one. Chris had to say very slowly.
Angela could not be the bomber, not that sweet, pretty thing. Thing? Is that how she regarded that young woman, as a thing? And what had she ever said to her except I hear you're getting married, Ange...
You, too, may strike it rich who dares to play the Westing game.
Daughter of the servants. Gee, you must have been lonely, Judge, having nobody to play with. I played with Sam Westing—chess. Hour after hour I sat staring down at that chessboard. He lectured me, he...
You can't read my shorthand because I wrote in Polish.
TURTLE SPENT THE night at the bedside of eighty-five-year-old Julian R. Eastman. T. R. Wexler had a master’s degree in business administration, an advanced degree in corporate law, and had served two...