The Corpse With The Silver Tongue (2012) - Plot & Excerpts
The relatively disinterested yet knowing glance I got from the guy behind reception when I finally got back to my hotel implied as much. When I closed the door to my room and got a good look at myself in the full length mirror, I was surprised that the reception guy hadn’t let out a cry of horror upon my arrival. I know that at five four, weighing one hundred and eighty pounds and being forty-eight years old with greying hair, I’m not anything to write home about at the best of times—but good grief, even I thought that I looked a state! I usually keep my hair carefully swept straight back from my forehead into a ponytail and caught with a long scarf tied in a big floppy bow. But now it was a mass of ends and lumps and knots. Yuk. My clothes, my ubiquitous set of black bouncy, drapy layers, that suits most occasions, and which never, ever creases, looked as though I had slept in it—which, of course, I hadn’t; they gave me a delightful little gown to wear—you know the type.
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