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Unformatted text preview: o wander. It had been a miracle to watch Michael Curry's work. Mona dreamed such a thing would someday happen to the house on St. Charles and Amelia. Well, Mona would get to that third-floor room now. And thanks to the history she knew who the dead man had been, a young investigator from the Talamasca called Stuart Townsend. Still wasn't clear who had poisoned the man. But Mona's bet was it had been her Uncle Cortland, who really wasn't her uncle at all, but actually her great-great-grandfa- ther, which was really one of the most fun puzzles in the family history to figure out. Smells. She wanted to investigate that other smell-the scent that lingered in the hallway and the living room of First Street. Nothing to do with a dead body, that one. The smell that had come with disaster at Christmas. The smell which no one else could smell, it seemed, unless Aunt Gifford had been lying when Mona asked her. Aunt Gifford did that. She wouldn't admit to "seeing things" or picking up strange scents. "I do...
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- Spring '10