The Man Who Died Twice (Thursday Murder Club, #2)

by Richard Osman

“Small dogs are like small men: always got a point to prove.

“Never go to the loo first. Tie a knot in it if you have to.”

I do wish something exciting would happen again. I don’t mind what. Perhaps a fire, but where no one gets hurt?

“Indeterminate terrier,” according to his profile. You and me both, I thought when I saw that.

He has really come out of his shell since everyone started getting murdered.

I think he fell off a ladder, but it might have been cancer, I can’t remember.

You forgot to live, you just hid away, safe and sound.

The twinkle you soon realize is actually the beam of a lighthouse, warning you off the rocks.

On reflection, he can’t even remember whose grenades they were, or why he had agreed to bury them, but that comes with age.

Revenge is not a straight line, it’s a circle. It’s a grenade that goes off while you’re still in the room, and you can’t help but be caught in the blast.

blowing a man’s head off from four feet away probably doesn’t suit everyone. It wouldn’t suit me, and it doesn’t suit Poppy. Actually, perhaps it would suit me? You never know until you try, do you? I never thought I would like dark chocolate, for example.

We are all gone in the blink of an eye, and there is nothing to do but live while you’re waiting. Cause trouble, play chess, whatever suits you.

She must have been Irish at some point, but it doesn’t seem like she is now.

Diamonds? Murder? Perhaps a bit of both? That would be nice.

“So you can remember the exact words of the message,” says Lance. “But not where your phone is?” Elizabeth taps her head. “My palace has many rooms. Some are dustier than others.”

He made me scrambled eggs. And he gave Ron cocaine. What a champ.

Lomax had gone to the theater once, and that seemed marginally better. At least the actors were there. At least you could talk to them when you disagreed. He had been asked to leave, but he certainly wouldn’t rule out going again one day.

I can’t find boring men attractive. Believe me, I’ve tried. Wouldn’t it make life simpler?

“Some people in life, Sue, are weather forecasters, whereas other people are the weather itself.”

I am learning that it is important to stop sometimes and just have a drink and a gossip with friends, even as corpses start to pile up around you.

It was love, of course, but it was also friendship. Stephen was the first person she had ever met who refused to take her seriously.

“More women are murdering people these days,” says Joyce. “If you ignore the context, it is a real sign of progress.”

“Well, let’s take it one day at a time, shall we? I enjoyed yesterday, I’m having fun today, and I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

It’s round about twelve that the charm wears off with boys, though most of them get it back sooner or later.

Donna doesn’t need therapy, but she wouldn’t mind a nice long chat with a friend who happens to be a therapist.

but in a healthy rather than a slutty way.

“This is a lot of guns in a small room,”

“When I get out, you’re a dead man.” Ron looks back at her. “Well, I’m seventy-five, and you’ll be doing thirty years so, yeah, agreed.”

“I recognized her the moment I met her. I just thought, ‘Well, there you are, I’ve been waiting for you.’ ”