I got out of the car -

sam65166

he total nine dollars and thirteen cents out of a ten she gave the check-out
clerk.

Next to the receipt was a slender white bank envelope that was empty. Beside it a pebbly tan Ray
Ban sunglasses case — also empty.

In the backseat was a Wimbledon tennis racket, and a rumpled white towel I reached over the seat
to get. Stamped in small blue letters on a terrycloth border was WESTWOOD RACQUET CLUB [link widoczny dla zalogowanych],
the same name printed on a red vinyl tote bag I had noted upstairs in Beryl's closet.

Marino had saved his theatrics for last. I knew he had looked over all of these items and wanted me
to see them in situ. They weren't evidence. The killer had never gone inside the garage. Marino was
baiting me. He had been baiting me since we had first stepped inside the house. It was a habit of his
that irritated the hell out of me.

Turning off the engine [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I got out of the car [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], the door shutting with a muffled solid thud.

He looked speculatively at me.

A couple of questions I said.

Shoot.”

Westwood is an exclusive club. Was she a member?”
A nod.
Yyilai:
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Published bbaagcyj

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