Walterisms_A GRAVE MISTEAK_The Methodist Ghost_Does not Play the Accordion
Catalog Guide:
Walterisms
“Judy! Judy get in here! You have to see this!” Walter had his 1944 vintage Nash Kelvinator binoculars pressed firmly into his eye sockets, while not so discreetly looking out the window of his study. The leather strap that once was new and sturdy was now coming apart at the studs on the ends and was filled with warped cracks all along its length. Those binoculars had seen so much in their 78 years, and so had Walter.Judy screamed something inaudible from the kitchen amongst the banging of pots and pans. He put the binoculars down and turned his face in her general direction. “Judy! Honestly, ...
A GRAVE MISTEAK
“Yeah, it’s delicious.”Andrew Herbert wasn’t necessarily a man known for his honesty, but this may have been the biggest lie he’d ever told. As he sat looking at the decrepit and atrocious excuse for a meal in front of him, he repeated once more, “It’s absolutely dewww.onedoor.cclicious.” He then added an “I love it,” in for good measure. Andrew of course meant no harm by this little white lie, but it’s effect would be detrimental. The lies Andrew continued to spout off for the next several minutes were directed at his dear friend, Michael Drammer. Michael was a tall, slender man who was in the p...
The Methodist Ghost
[the Victoria and Baltick Coffeehouse where Gerard and Barnaby hold their business presentation was the forerunner of the Stock Exchange]‘Brother, well met,’ cried the wholesaler Barnaby Jones, his rotund cheeks ruddy in the wintry wind. ‘You’ve come a ways.’ ‘Afternoon, Mr. Jones,’ responded Gerard Andrieu the silk weaver, touching the rim of his cap. ‘Felicity,’ he nodded to the gentleman’s wife, who was Gerard’s sister. Their relatively new bonds of kinship were not yet warm enough to render the encounter comfortable. ‘Indeed, there were no carriages; we had to walk from Spitalfields, but t...
Does not Play the Accordion
Friendly, tidy, young professional, the application had read. I suppose I never thought to ask what kind of professional, but you usually assume something in IT or finance or maybe marketing. Gabrielle Poole: non-smoker, meat-eater, does not play the accordion. I assumed that was a bit of humour. By that time I had already had a few people round to visit the flat: one sweaty young man with a creased shirt who had asked exactly how often the landlord usually came to visit, an exceedingly tall woman who felt inclined to kick each inch of skirting board with her heavy platform boots, and Ziggy, w...