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The Lineup: The World's Greatest Crime Writers Tell the Inside Story of Their Greatest DetectivesShe likes that chilly distance of the surname. Aloof? Perhaps. In Stone Angel, she is likened to a cat: The cat hissed and arched its back as CharlesБЂ™s hand moved toward the sugar bowl. Apparently, he had violated some house rule of table manners. Slowly, his hand withdrew from the bowl and came to rest on the table by his cup. The cat lay down, stretching her lean body across the checkered cloth, and the tail ceased to switch and beat the wood. When his hand moved again, she bunched her muscles, set to spring, relaxing only while his hand was still. The cat controlled him. Now who did that remind him of? The old woman was back at the table. БЂњDonБЂ™t touch that cat. She doesnБЂ™t like people-barely tolerates them. SheБЂ™s wild-raised in the woods. When I found her, she was too set in her ways to ever be anybodyБЂ™s idea of tame. She had buckshot all through her pelt and chicken feathers in her mouth. Now that told me, right off, that she was a thief. And she is perversity incarnate. Sometimes she purrs just before she strikes ...» |
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