The Gilded Bone
The phone rang at 3:17 AM on a Saturday, and Vivian Beaumont was already awake, staring at the ceiling of her Greenwich Village apartment, listening to the city breathe through the cracked window. She let it ring four times before answering. "Hello?" "A woman named Vivian Beaumont," a voice said—male, nervous, speaking with a slight New Orleans accent. "You investigate things." "I do." "A woman...
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