The Pale Shadows
"It’s structurally unstable, Thorne. You know that." Inspector Vane did not look at the glass. He looked at the invoice. The paper was thick, cream-colored, and smelled of the chancel where it had been stored for the winter. Vane’s fingers, manicured to a sharp white point, tapped the document. He was a man who weighed words the way a butcher weighs meat, cutting away the fat of sentiment until...
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