"whitney phyllis a. the red carnelian" - читать интересную книгу автора (Whitney Phyllis A)

This, I knew, was the moment toward which I had
been moving with dreadful certainty all day long.
All the wires which pulled me had been stretched
so taut that I had only to scream to snap them.
But I couldn't scream. I could only stand there
staring at the man who lay at my feet beneath the
switch box. He was sprawled face down, and
beside him was the steel-clubbed head of a broken golf
stick.

















To Max Siegel, fine bookman
and good friend, and with grateful
acknowledgement to Reed Schlademan
who answered all my questions about window
display.










THE RED CARNELIAN

CHAPTER 1

Cunningham's department store is quiet again
now. Sylvester Hering still puts his head in the
door of my office whenever he goes by, to call
out, "Hi, Linell!" and perhaps to linger and study the
pictures on my walls, to speak briefly of the