Losing one's mind is surely like losing one's virginity. Lose a little, lose a lot.
Sheba, who didn’t especially like me, although she did serve me cookies when I was here before. I’d managed to get rid of them. My mother’s cookies had spoiled me for anyone else’s. I think I crumbled...
Melrose, smiling brightly at the butcher.
And how did he ever think he’d get away with murdering me? Her tone implied she must surely belong to that rare breed of mortals who must go unmurdered.
Melrose winced. He lived in a world of dried-up pheasant and one-liners.
Melrose sipped his tea and ate his bun in perfect peace. How wonderful! Solitude even at Ardry End was hard to come by. Perhaps he was fit for the life of a hermit. Give up all of his worldly possessi...
It’s just, Bobbi whispered, not many women your age— Oh. I get it. It’s because I’m an old woman. Etta had raised her voice at this so that the comment sailed up and down the table, earning Bobbi Nort...
Desk’s
Polly was a writer of many deadlines. There were the ignorable deadlines, the not-to-be-taken-too-seriously deadlines: the deadlines-before-the-deadlines deadlines, and finally, the no-kidding-around...
Old willows trailed veils of wet leaves across his path. Moss crawled up the headstones. The place was otherwise deserted.
Love was rather terrifying. Something so hard to find should not be so easily lost.
Any particular idiot in mind? I do, indeed. If Tom was actually here on Monday, and he needed an alibi, well, man, he didn’t have one!
To his horror, Melrose saw that these were name tags she was now pinning to the Attaboys’ clothing and that the other guests were wearing them. To his double horror, he saw her hand closing on his lap...
As he followed Wood, Jury thought: one disappearance, two auto accident victims, one in a mental institution, one drowned. One murdered. Rackmoor, for all its bracing sea air, didn’t seem the healthie...