A Deadly Game by Carla Simpson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: Carla Simpson
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Mysteries
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I DON’T BELIEVE in coincidences. And my work recently with
Angus Brodie, Private Investigator, bears that out.
My very good friend, Theodora Templeton, however, believes that these
occurrences are actually games played by those who reside in the spirit
world. She is convinced they’re offering up advice, that has been useful in
the past, specifically in solving a crime. More specifically, murder.
I recently had the dubious experience of her communications with the
dead upon offering up my residence in Mayfair where she might recover for
a time from the dreadful circumstance of a crime that she had been accused
of committing.
As I am not frequently in residence, having other most interesting
accommodations recently, it seemed the least I could do for someone whose
company I enjoyed immensely in spite of those unusual communications
from the spirit world that included William Shakespeare. I had, however,
drawn the line when it came to accommodating Ziggy, her four-foot-long
iguana that was now receiving the royal treatment at the London Zoo as the
star attraction.
Templeton had recently taken a flat closer to the theater where she had a
new engagement and was quite occupied with rehearsals, the better to
recover from her recent experience. And it seemed that her host of spirits
had departed with her. Or possibly at the suggestion of my great-aunt, who
participated in tarot readings and séances from time to time, and had sent a
handful of chess pieces to be distributed about the townhouse to encourage
said spirits to depart.
At the time, Templeton had taken it upon herself to set them about in
one place or another. “You just never know who might drop by…”
However, we had fared quite well without rumblings or spiritual
appearances. I say “we” as in my housekeeper, Mrs. Ryan, and myself.
In the world I now ventured into from time to time, private
investigations of some very difficult cases including murder, I had learned
there was no such thing as a coincidence. People did not go about creating a
coincidence simply for having something to do.
Life was far too complicated, even at its simplest, where most people
were often far too busy struggling from day to day to survive to even notice
the coincidences that existed around them—the contents of a disabled cart
spilling food into the street that is quickly set upon by starving children of
the East End or cast-off rags from one of the workhouses that clothe a
woman selling flowers at Covent Garden.
These and many more random occurrences that somehow occurred at
the same place and time, by accident or as my housekeeper, a very devout
Irish woman, would say, divine intervention, a miracle. As I am not a
religious person, I tend to avoid those conversations with Mrs. Ryan.
But I digress.
I had spent the early hours of the morning reading the early issue of the
Times newspaper, specifically the crime page. More specifically, an article
written by L. Penworth, full name Lucy Penworth.
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