The woman who'd opened the door to the apartment was a curious creature, painted and wigged, too, but less than four feet high, her voice squawking harshly, like someone mimicking a parrot. There were smells too. Some were foreign kitchen smells, Italian ones of garlic, or...
van Driessen insisted that she go straight to bed. “You look exhausted, Mrs. Church.” Angelica had to agree with the assessment. Shortly after, she accompanied the spry, old lady upstairs to a room under the eaves. Boxes and ...