By Gilbert Adair
London 1946. An actress is murdered, not only on digital camera yet in complete view of a crowded movie set. simply six humans had a chance to manage the poison but now not considered one of them had a a possibility cause. As Evadne Mount, bestselling crime novelist, discovers, despite the fact that, all six did have a rationale for committing one other, previous, nonetheless unsolved homicide but, on that party, no longer considered one of them had the opportunity...
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Additional resources for A Mysterious Affair of Style (Evadne Mount, Book 2)
I blinked and looked up from the monitor. And saw a stranger sitting across the room. Except it wasn’t my room. A moment before I was sitting in my crowded little study. Now the room was cavernous. Panels of dark, gleaming wood replaced the bookshelves. The fireplace had grown into a giant, stonework affair that suggested the fiery furnace of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego: you could walk around inside without bumping your head. An elderly man sat upon an antique chaise lounge across from me. His legs were elevated and hidden beneath a colorful stratum of quilts and comforters.
Deirdre, it seemed, had someone else’s heart right now. She was holding it in the palm of her hand. And it was convulsing as if it were still alive. ” I asked, sensing light gathering at the dark edges of my vision. She held the squirming cardiac muscle toward me, oily red fluids drooling between her fingers and sheeting down her arm. ” She smiled demurely. ” I looked down at the gaping dark hole in my chest . . And awoke in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets. * * * The upside to having daymares on a regular basis is that you stop going through that whole disorientation phase and learn to wake up real quick.
His head was round and vaguely he put me in mind of a Peanuts cartoon character—Charlie Brown some sixty years hence and waiting for a visit from his grandchildren. Snoopy’s master grown sharp and crafty with age. . “Mr. Cséjthe,” the stranger began. I would have thought his speech without accent was it not for his pronunciation of the hard consonants in my name. “ . . please forgive this unorthodox intrusion but I simply must speak with you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. ” I growled, though I suspected that this was going to be a one-way conversation.
A Mysterious Affair of Style (Evadne Mount, Book 2) by Gilbert Adair