By Lindsey Davis
Inimitable sleuth Falco is again with a vengeance. One evening, a guy is killed and Rome's leader undercover agent left for lifeless. This leaves nobody other than Falco to behavior the research. quickly he's plunged into the fiercely aggressive global of olive oil construction. Political intrigue, an unique Spanish dancer, and forthcoming fatherhood all upload to Falco's issues.
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Additional resources for A Dying Light in Corduba: A Marcus Didius Falco Mystery (Marcus Didius Falco, Book 8)
When the teacher found us she paddled us both, two licks. I was miserable without Myra, half mad at her for being sick. I drew up my knees and tried to be invisible but it didn’t work. A girl from my class named Tina Cutshaw saw me and walked over. ” she asked. I didn’t look up at her face. I already knew it, pale with slit eyes and a fuzzy ring of dun-colored hair. She sat in the desk next to mine staring at me all day. I looked at her shoes instead, mud-crusted brogans with the laces untied. They were probably hand-me-downs from her brother, a bone-thin boy who was always throwing up.
He told me stories, mostly about the times he had with Myra’s grandparents growing up. When Mr. Barnett lost his older brother in the war, Macon Lamb was the closest thing he had to one. Since he was the only boy left in a house full of sisters, he was always at Macon’s heels. “He’s the one taught me how to smoke and chew both,” Mr. Barnett said. “Some people didn’t like him because he was quiet, and they took that for hateful. But I knowed the kind of man he really was. He’d do things you didn’t expect, like whittle something and give it to you for a present.
I reckon we can,” he said. ” “Well,” I said. ” My mouth was dry as a bone. I was holding up this nice pink egg, I still remember it. That’s when Macon finally noticed me. We hid the rest of them eggs together. DOUG In the winter right before I turned twelve, Myra got chicken pox and stayed home from school for a week. At recess I sat by the chain-link fence at the back of the playground poking sticks and brown weeds through the diamonds into the churchyard grass on the other side, my fingers stiff with cold.