His literary instincts were reviving. O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner. ’ A peal of laughter came from the girl. “But you must forgive me, John. Pierre. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town.
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