1930. American writer of mystery novels known for their humor and ingenuity. The novel begins: I have wrenched my knee, and for the past two of them here in the library, a nurse at ten o'clock each morning with a device of infernal origin which is ...
supposed to bake the pain out of my leg, and my thoughts for company. But my thinking is cloudy and chaotic. The house is too quiet. I miss Judy, busy now with affairs of her own, and perhaps I miss the excitement of the past few months. It is difficult to take an interest in beef croquettes for luncheon out of last night's roast when one's mind is definitely turned on crime. For that is what I am thinking about, crime; and major crime at that. See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.