The Faded Alibi
The Faded Alibi The Faded Alibi In the back room of a Sotheby's valuation office on Bond Street, where the air smelled of dust and the slow decomposition of other people's history, Henry Ashworth-Cross had spent seventeen years appraising the worth of things that belonged to dead people. He was forty-eight, thin as a paragraph, with the pale hands of a man who had never needed to do anything...
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