The Distant Joke
Thorne, you look like a man who’s already buried himself. Inspector Vance did not raise his voice, which was worse than shouting, because it meant he had already decided the outcome and was merely waiting for the paperwork to catch up with his will. The office smelled of damp wool and the sharp, chemical bite of carbolic soap, a scent that had seeped into the very grain of the wood paneling...
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