The Last Devil to Die (Thursday Murder Club, #4)

by Richard Osman

“I haven’t eaten since elevenses.”

‘whence,’

“Liverpudlian,”

Medieval walls, cobblestones, tea shops called “tea shoppes.” It was absolute catnip to Joyce.

“Everybody works for someone,” says Ron. “Only a weak man pretends otherwise.”

I’ve kept it ever since to teach the exact lesson I’m teaching you—the lesson being that if you can tell a story, you can sell a five-bob bit of metal for thirty thousand pounds. And that’s how you become a millionaire.”

Ibrahim has stuck a Post-it note on both his printer and his laminator saying What would Greta Thunberg do?

identikit

Anyone who has ever worked nights or been kept awake night after night will tell you that three a.m. to four a.m. is always the longest hour. The hour when brutal loneliness takes total control. Where every tick of the clock is agony.

His father-in-law had told him once that the first three things to go are the knees, the eyesight and the confidence.