Amsterdam

George reached the Hallidays’ house and paused on the front steps. He’d known Mandy for years. A great girl. Used to be rather wild. Perhaps it was not too soon to ask her out to di

Yes, a memorial service. St. Martin’s rather than St. James’s, which was favored these days by credulous types who read the sort of books he himself published. St. Martin’s, then, and he alone would make the speech, and no one else. No former lovers exchanging glances. He smiled, and as he raised his hand to touch the doorbell, his mind was already settling luxuriously on the fascinating matter of the guest list.