The Sommita lay spread-eagled on her back across a red counterpane. The bosom of her red biblical dress had been torn down to the waist and under her left breast, irrelevantly, unbelievably, the haft of a knife stuck out. The right arm, rigid as...
En ce vendredi 7 novembre, à Concarneau, quand l'horloge lumineuse indique onze heures, toutes les routes sont désertes. Mais à l'hôtel l'Amiral, il y a encore des hommes en train de jouer aux cartes. Cinq minutes plus...
“Here’s the gun I’m not going to use to kill my husband.” That’s what she said. But he was killed, and with that gun, or with one just like it... and Archie Goodwin had tampered with the gun...