The rain in Los Angeles doesn't fall the way it falls in London or New York.
The case came to me on a Tuesday. A woman named Patricia Halloway hired me to investigate her neighbour's wife. Mrs. Sable, the woman was called. She had been found dead in her apartment, slumped against the stove, a half-empty cup of tea on the counter beside her. The coroner said poisoning. The husband, a man named Robert Sable, was the prime suspect. He had a motive—life insurance, two...
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