By Peter E Abresch
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Extra info for Bloody bonsai
Really I don’t. I mean you’re not so old, you’ve got a portable profession. ” Teddie Forbes had pressed my hand with something of the ancient warmth when she’d arrived in The Snug. She was looking at me so intently that I had to let my eyes wander away to the velvet and leather decor of the room. It was full of overtones of Ireland, from the piped-in music to the foolish leprechauns on the coasters under the drinks. She’d been her usual ten minutes late, just for old times, and I’d had plenty of time to take in the throng of trendy business people unwinding or wheeling and dealing over martinis and imported beer.
He was worried about the stuff he was hauling, that’s what. ” “And you think they murdered him? Who exactly is they, Mrs. ” “Why, Kinross, of course. All of them. ” She looked at her knuckles for a minute before going on. They looked cold. “I want you to see if Jack was killed to hush up something he found out about. I know he was murdered. I’m not looking for another whitewashing inquest. ” She looked back at me with a set jaw and steady eyes. “I want you to get the goods on Kinross. ” “Look, Mrs.
Why not? Dr. Carswell watched me go through the waiting room to the front door, judging by the sensation between my shoulder-blades. I walked up Ontario Street, feeling a cold wind blowing off the park. Winter was coming, I thought, as a few rusty leaves blew across my path. I remembered the smell of burning leaves from years ago. The environment was now safe from the smoke of burning leaves. It got plastic garbage bags instead. Back in my office, I tried Irma Dowden’s number again. She was still out on the town.