He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. "If I get free, I'll have a bout with you at all weapons. See, it is on my cards—M. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. If she’s over, he probably knows all about it. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. Wood, "it may be poisoned.
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