Jack opened the window and paused. Then, he simply pointed in. No words were necessary.
Gwenda Reid, Murder in Retrospect.
“Yes, I used to have a bit of a reputation,” admitted Dean. “But I was able to get rid of that.”
Dell Arbogast, The Null Hypothesis and Other Stories.
“Oh, it’s not that he thinks only of himself, Janet. Not necessarily. It’s that he just does proceed. And proceed in a thieving way.”
Everson Dwight, Being and Murder.
Grigoriev’s last words concerned some business about “the dreadful numbers” and about “a geometry of lies.”
Hilary Fewkes, The Banality Killings.
“They told me that she simply vanished, in the middle of a sentence,” said Lottie, brushing aside a tear.
Rubina Malcolm, The Black Box.
“Wanting to understand it is the mistake,” insisted Daniels. “Do not try to understand it.”
Ellery Close, The Erasmus Homicides.
But the vulture needn’t know that he is a vulture. Circling a carcass just comes naturally.
Nigel Swarbrick, A Bootful of Nails.
“The actor’s hair was something of a mystery,” exclaimed Harold. “I mean, where was it coming from exactly? And what was it doing?”
Brendan Shaughnessy, Lobsters and Clams—A Novel.
“Hello, stranger,” said Carter. “Remember me?”
Michael Margate, The Lay of the Land.
“People can change, Julie. Some people change all the time.”
Gladys Huizinga, Hard-Luck Dennis.
