Solving Crimes

I’m never disappointed by the people I meet at book events.

“Oh no! Did you miss it?!” a disembodied voice came from behind me, as Adam and I pulled out our chairs.

I turned to see a lady in her mid-fifties wearing a mohair cardigan, lipstick-red glasses and a shocked expression that hooked her eyebrows to her hairline. I looked to the wine in her hand, then to the rest of our table at the Antony Horowitz Literary Lunch, where seven other grins hovered over pale glasses of Pinot Grigio.