By Ellery Adams
Whereas jogging her poodle, Olivia Limoges discovers a useless physique buried within the sand. may or not it's hooked up to the weird burglaries plaguing Oyster Bay, North Carolina? At each crime scene, the thieves manage strange tableaus: a stick of butter with a knife via it, dolls with silver spoons of their mouths, a deck of playing cards with a lacking queen. Olivia realizes every one setup represents a cliché. And who greater to decode the cliché clues than her Bayside publication Writers crew?
Read or Download A Deadly Cliché (A Books by the Bay Mystery, Book 2) PDF
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Additional resources for A Deadly Cliché (A Books by the Bay Mystery, Book 2)
Said my companion, who had ruffled the little man’s temper by bursting into an explosion of laughter. “You certainly have the credit of being the first of us to find this out and, as you say, it bears every mark of having been written by the other participant in last night’s mystery. ” As he spoke, he whipped a tape measure and a large round magnifying glass from his pocket. With these two implements he trotted noiselessly about the room, sometimes stopping, occasionally kneeling, and once lying flat upon his face.
The two detectives stared at him in amazement. “I have now in my hands,” my companion said, confidently, “all the threads which have formed such a tangle. There are, of course, details to be filled in, but I am as certain of all the main facts, from the time that Drebber parted from Stangerson at the station, up to the discovery of the body of the latter, as if I had seen them with my own eyes. I will give you a proof of my knowledge. ” “I have them,” said Lestrade, producing a small white box; “I took them and the purse and the telegram, intending to have them put in a place of safety at the police station.
They would be likely to agree on some meeting-place beforehand,” remarked Holmes. “So it proved. I spent the whole of yesterday evening in making inquiries entirely without avail. This morning I began very early, and at eight o’clock I reached Halliday’s Private Hotel, in Little George Street. On my inquiry as to whether a Mr. Stangerson was living there, they at once answered me in the affirmative. “‘No doubt you are the gentleman whom he was expecting,’ they said. ’ I asked. “‘He is upstairs in bed.