Connecting Rooms
“It just seemed a trifle out of character. On the other hand, the rose garden of the old Draycott place was no ordinary one. And Owen Sweet, Amy had decided, was no ordinary gardener.
“Are you, or are you not, a private investigator?” Amy demanded.
“Depends,” Owen Sweet answered. With the lethal precision of a fencer, he used a pair of garden shears on a clotted mass of evil-looking vines.
“What does it depend on?”
“On whether or not I feel like working at it.” Owen took hold of the severed vine...s with heavily gloved hands. He ripped the old vegetation away from the window with a single, powerful motion. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
Owen took no notice of her sarcasm. He seized another tangle of vines and dispatched them with ease.
Amy watched, morosely fascinated. She couldn’t help it. She liked watching Owen Sweet.
The vegetation he was attacking with such diligence had grown so thickly over the windows of the old house that it had effectively blocked all sunlight from reaching some of the rooms.MoreLess
“Are you, or are you not, a private investigator?” Amy demanded.
“Depends,” Owen Sweet answered. With the lethal precision of a fencer, he used a pair of garden shears on a clotted mass of evil-looking vines.
“What does it depend on?”
“On whether or not I feel like working at it.” Owen took hold of the severed vine...s with heavily gloved hands. He ripped the old vegetation away from the window with a single, powerful motion. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
Owen took no notice of her sarcasm. He seized another tangle of vines and dispatched them with ease.
Amy watched, morosely fascinated. She couldn’t help it. She liked watching Owen Sweet.
The vegetation he was attacking with such diligence had grown so thickly over the windows of the old house that it had effectively blocked all sunlight from reaching some of the rooms.MoreLess
Read book Connecting Rooms for free
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
8 / 10
8 / 10
User Reviews: