By Donald Bain, Jessica Fletcher
Jessica Fletcher is within the Berkshires attending a writers’ convention at a historical mansion the place her buddies the Savoys are web hosting a murder-mystery get together. As either a criminal offense solver and a secret writer, Jessica is an previous hand at this type of factor. So she swears to the Savoys that she won’t show the secrets and techniques in their play and is going approximately having fun with the weekend together with her colleagues.
But while a tender actor’s homicide scene appears to be like all too genuine, nobody can inform what’s scripted and what isn’t. they are saying the convey needs to move on, yet everyone seems to be brooding about: Who fairly dunit?
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Additional info for A Question of Murder (Murder, She Wrote, Book 25)
Got the building surrounded. ” Blood looked chagrined. He dropped his head. ” “Now we stand ’em off, that’s what. ” I waited. He grinned. ” IV The girl, this Quilla June, was pretty safe. I made her a kind of a shelter out of wrestling mats, maybe a dozen of them. She wouldn’t get hit by a stray bullet, and if they didn’t go right for her, they wouldn’t find her. I climbed one of the ropes hanging down from the girders and laid out up there with the Browning and a couple of handfuls of reloads.
It hung way down the back. The flashlight didn’t 47 Harlan Ellison A Boy and His Dog make it clear enough to tell if she had red hair or chestnut, but it wasn’t blonde, which was good, and that was because I dug redheads. She had nice tits, though. I couldn’t see her face, the hair was hanging down all smooth and wavy and cut off her profile. The crap she’d been wearing was thrown around on the floor, and what she was going to put on was up on the vaulting horse. She was standing in little shoes with a kind of funny heel on them.
She turned off here,” Blood said. I followed him as he began loping toward the edge of the city and the bluish-green radiation that still flickered from the hills. I knew he was right, then. The only things out here were screamers and the access dropshaft to the downunder. It was a girl, all right. The cheeks of my ass tightened as I thought about it. I was going to get laid. It had been almost a month, since Blood had whiffed that solo chick in the basement of the Market Basket. She’d been filthy, and I’d gotten the crabs from her, but she’d been a woman, all right, and once I’d tied her down and clubbed her a couple of times she’d been pretty good.
A Question of Murder (Murder, She Wrote, Book 25) by Donald Bain, Jessica Fletcher