The Wistful Incense
The house stood in the valley like a broken tooth in a rotting jaw, a sprawling Victorian monstrosity of slate and ivy that had once been the pride of the Ashworth family and now served merely as a mausoleum for the memories of a man who believed he could outrun his own conscience. Elias Ashworth, a private investigator who had spent thirty years chasing the ghosts of other people’s crimes, had...
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