Why does anyone take photographs ever? We never look at them anymore.
The house is seventies modern with sliding windows, gas-effect and a giant TV in the living room. There are almost no books. I’m not making any judgement. It’s just the sort of thing I can’t help but notice.
You’d have thought that after twenty years editing murder mysteries I’d have noticed when I found myself in the middle of one.
The food at the Mandarin Club was not good, but the members liked it that way. It reminded them of school.
Alan invented all sorts of ways of expressing things so that only he and I understood. He used language as a place for us to hide.
And you think he’ll tell?” Matt asked. “We will make him tell us.” Han Shan-tung muttered the words casually, but there was something about the way he spoke that made the skin crawl.
Inspector Morse, Taggart, Lewis, Foyle’s War, Endeavour, A Touch of Frost, Luther, The Inspector Lynley Mysteries, Cracker, Broadchurch and even bloody Maigret and Wallander – British TV would disappear into a dot on the screen without murder.
Abbiatico and Salvinelli,” he said. “It cost me thirty grand – or my mother, anyway.
And here, out in the darkness, identical twins were stalking each other, one of them with murder on his mind.
It has always struck me that any interpretation of a series of events is possible until all the evidence says otherwise and even then one should be wary before jumping to a conclusion.
No, the events which I am about to describe were simply too monstrous, too shocking to appear in print. They still are. It is no exaggeration to suggest that they would tear apart the entire fabric of society and, particularly at a time of war, this is something I cannot risk.
How many spelling misteaks are their in this sentence?
Sun worshippers? No. These people were here because they worshipped themselves.
Holmes is depressed. Poirot is vain. Miss Marple is brusque and eccentric. They don’t have to be attractive. Look at Nero Wolfe who was so fat that he couldn’t even leave his New York home and had to have a custom-made chair to support his weight!
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
In a world full of uncertainties, is it not inherently satisfying to come to the last page with every i dotted and every t crossed?
These had been his plans. But if there was one thing that life had taught him, it was the futility of making plans. Life had its own agenda.
There are some people who argue that we are too sensitive these days, that because we’re so afraid of causing offence, we no longer engage in any serious sort of argument at all. But that’s how it is. It’s why political chat-shows on television have become so very boring. There are narrow lines between which all public conversations have to take place and even a single poorly chosen word can bring all sorts of trouble down on.
If I were of a philosophical frame of mind I might wonder to what extent any one of us is in control of our own destiny, or if indeed we can ever predict the far-reaching consequences of actions which, at the time, may seem entirely trivial.
Holmes had returned entirely to his old self – secretive, over-confident and thoroughly annoying.