No one cared that Wally Carter was dead. Certainly not fleshly Ermyntrude Carter, Wally's flamboyant wife. Good riddance to bad rubbish! As for Ermuntrude's impossibly intense teen-age daughter and Wally's vapid ward, Mary, the inheritance money was so consoling. Strong, silent, strange Robert Steel and tall, dark, phony Prince Alexis Varasashvili danced graveside attendance on the overly merry widow, while shady Harold White (under-the-counter business partner of the deceased) heaved a sigh of relief. No one cared that Wally Carter was dead. Pity. But someone had cared enough to shoot him through the chest. Who the devil could it be? Asked absolutely super Inspector Hemingway.
This vintage paperback is in very good condition with a spine crease and light cover rubbing. It has small owner's initials, a partial reader's crease and some page tanning.
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