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Steals into my garden without warning. I am sitting in the camellia grove above the estuary, waiting for the sunset, watching a pair of oystercatchers at the water’s edge, and trying to work out who is going to murder Major Palgrave. The lapping of the tide lulls me to sleep, so I don’t see the boat heading for the mooring. “Mrs. Christie?” His shadow falls across my face. “Who is it?” My eyes snap open.
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