To Cut a Long Story Short
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In this short story collection by Jeffrey Archer, a dying man doesn't know which of his relations to leave his fortune to, only to find out who really cares about him. A chance overheard conversation changes the course of an entire man's life. A woman savors every word of a letter from her lover while her husband reads over her shoulder. A criminal on the loose confesses that he is desperate to be caught. A widowed mother learns the cold truth about her second husband at the dawn of her third marriage. A pencil, the cruelest of the artist's tools, leaves nothing to chance… in To Cut a Long Story Short.
JEFFREY ARCHER T O C U T A L O N G S T O R Y S H O RT To Stephan, Alison and David CONTENTS PREFACE DEATH SPEAKS *THE EXPERT WITNESS THE ENDGAME THE LETTER *CRIME PAYS CHALK AND CHEESE *A CHANGE OF HEART *TOO MANY COINCIDENCES *LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT *BOTH SIDES AGAINST THE MIDDLE *A WEEKEND TO REMEMBER *SOMETHING FOR NOTHING OTHER BLIGHTERS’ EFFORTS *THE RECLINING WOMAN THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER… About the Author Praise Also by Jeffrey Archer Copyright
I never did get to see his office in Mayfair, or meet any of his colleagues or friends. It’s almost as if it was all a figment of my imagination.” “Or his,” said Gerald, putting an arm around her waist. “But don’t let’s waste anymore time talking about Max. Let’s think about Greeks, and bacchanalian orgies.” “Is that what you teach those innocent little children in their formative years?” “No, it’s what they teach me,” Gerald replied. For the next three weeks the two of them sailed around the
front door she was greeted by a pile of letters. She sighed. They could all wait until tomorrow, she decided. Ruth spent a restless night tossing and turning. After snatching a few hours’ sleep, she decided that she might as well get up and make herself a cup of tea. She began to thumb through the post, only stopping when she came to a long buff envelope marked “Urgent” and bearing a London postmark. She tore it open and extracted a document that brought a smile to her face: “A decree absolute
had been up to that day. She led such a sober, orderly life that she rarely had anything of interest to tell him. Least of all on a Saturday. She had coffee every morning with her oldest friend, Molly Schultz, and on some days that would last until lunchtime. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she played bridge with the Zaccharis who lived across the street. On Tuesdays and Thursdays she visited her sister Nancy, which at least gave her something to grumble about when he rang on those evenings.
passed a copy of the Telegraph to the bank’s Chief Administrator. He didn’t speak again until the lift doors had closed. “Important time for Mr. Tudor-Jones,” Haskins informed his son. “If he doesn’t get promoted to the board this year, my bet is he’ll be marking time until he retires. I sometimes look at these jokers and think I could do their jobs. After all, it wasn’t my fault my old man was a brickie, and I didn’t get the chance to go to the local grammar school. Otherwise I might have ended