The Faded Alibi
Eleanor Voss stood in the shadow of the Old Bailey, her umbrella caught in a London drizzle that seemed less like weather and more like the city's way of weeping without tears. It had been eleven months since Marguerite disappeared — not dead, not exactly, but vanished in a manner that the police called "unexplained" and Eleanor called "theft." Marguerite had been a frequency analyst, a woman...
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