Body Language (Mark Manning Mysteries (Kensington Paperback))

Body Language (Mark Manning Mysteries (Kensington Paperback))

Michael Craft

Language: English

Pages: 273

ISBN: 1575665549

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Book by Craft, Michael

Hundstage: Roman

American Wife

My Way: Speeches and Poems

The Contract

Juliette (Princesses of Silicon Valley, Book 1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

trying to do something with her hair, which looked just fine. She brushed her denim work clothes with her palms while stepping down to the driveway. Glee and I followed. Bruno Hérisson’s rented car, a no-frills compact, hurtled up the drive, swerving perilously near the house, barely missing my own car—I cringed at the thought of the damage that, by mere chance, was avoided. The car’s windows were open, and its two occupants were yelling at each other. Their words were unintelligible, so I

others’ laughter. “Speaking of which,” she added, “I smell dinner.” We all did by now, and I realized that I had grown hungry for our midafternoon meal. Checking my watch, I told the others, “It’s not quite time to sit down, but I’ll bet Hazel could use some last-minute help pulling things together. Neil? Could you check downstairs with me?” “Natch,” he agreed. And Parker joined us, descending the back stairs to the kitchen. As I left the great room, I said to the others, “Please make

Uncle Edwin. At the recommendation of Elliot Coop, the family attorney, I had driven up from Chicago to meet Professor and Mrs. Tawkin, who were interested in buying the house from me. We met outside the house that day—it was spring, and the elms were green. Having somehow survived the pestilence that felled so many of their brothers, the trees appeared even loftier than I remembered them from my boyhood. Elliot took us all inside. Though thirty years had passed since I’d last seen it, the house

together, Neil and I pacing ourselves so as not to outdistance Thad, who trotted between us. “Try not to move your arms so much,” I suggested to Thad. “Keep your forearms parallel to the ground, just above your waist, letting them swing naturally with your gait—no need to pump them like a power-walker.” He did so, and his form improved dramatically. Neil added, “Even though it’s cold, don’t clench your fists inside your mittens. Focus all your energy on your legs—relax everything else.” Thad’s

at the bedside clock and saw that it was shortly after six. The near silence of early morning was broken only by the sound of the furnace blower and by a low chatter that resembled the grinding of teeth. The weather had turned bitterly cold again, so cold that the brick walls of the house seemed to grate their own mortar in defiance of the gelid outdoor air. The bed was warm and comforting, heated, no doubt, by the passions of my dream. The dream, though bizarre, was highly pleasurable, and I

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