By Ngaio Marsh
Ngaio Marsh used to be one of many queens (she has been referred to as the empress) of England's Golden Age of puzzle fiction. And in actual Golden Age type, her oeuvre opens with, definite, a country-house occasion among the 2 international wars – servants bustling, gin flowing, the gents in dinner jackets, the women all slink and smolder. much more scrumptious: The host, Sir Hubert Handesley, has invented a brand new and particularly fascinating model of that cherished parlor leisure, The homicide Game.
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Extra info for A Man Lay Dead (Roderick Alleyn, Book 1)
Miss Cox, I’m afraid Mrs. J. scratched her chin. “Granny Ledbetter has this surefire treatment for laryngitis, but it involves a possum, and I don’t know where to find a possum in Charleston on such short notice. ” Mama opened her mouth to say something, but Rob shook his head ever so slightly before laughing a bit too loud. “Ha! Ha! Please forgive Miss Cox. ” “But I’m not joking. If you don’t have time for me to bring back a big rat, two little rats might do. I saw some in the alley when I parked my car.
It happened about a billion times. Granny Led-better said it was trolls who did that, but Abby, I don’t think we have trolls in downtown Charleston. ” I shook my head to clear it of cobwebs. It was an exercise in futility. J.? ” “Don’t be silly, Abby. ” The cobwebs disappeared. ” I hung up, threw on yesterday’s clothes, and broke a few traffic laws getting to the store. Imagine the mixture of relief and irritation I felt upon discovering that verbose bird sitting safe and sound on one of his perches.
Just remember that if I’m out shrimping, it may take a couple of hours for me to get back. ” “No problem,” Mama said, without skipping a beat. She carries paper liners in her purse wherever she goes. I cut an extra large piece of pecan pie for my dearly beloved that evening. And behind closed doors he was the recipient of even more sugar. ’s turn to open the shop. Because the big gal is so competent, I am used to sleeping in late, with nary a care in the world—that is, if my grown children, Susan and Charlie, are not going through some crisis, and Mama is behaving, and my cat, Dmitri, is not out to convince me that I should have gotten a dog instead.