Amy knows she shouldn’t open the door to the stranger on her stoop, but she does anyway. Peter is writing a book about Toronto’s famous bank robbers, The Boyd Gang, and she lives in the house that they hid out at after escaping the Don Jail. A key piece of Peter’s research lies right under her living room floor.
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Not all private detectives live at home with their mother, but it’s lucky for Dalton Duckworth, head of the Duckworth Detective Agency, that he does because she’s the brains of the organization. When they’re not trading insults or eating breakfast the two team up to search for the Sun of Sumatra, the massive diamond in Joy Cleaver’s missing aigrette.
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“And I’m telling you. And I know best.” She glared at me in the way only a mother can glare at a son, and I understood the conversation was over; I wouldn’t be able to tell her what I knew, which was what she needed to know, both to solve the mystery and to save herself from making a massive mistake in her personal life. And, of course, her mistake would be a disaster for me too, because that’s how life works in a family.
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When his father took him camping for the first time, the boy was excited about what animals he might see in the wild. Imagine his excitement when he saw a moose -- which even his father, in all his years of experience -- had never seen.
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How cold the air was, and how I fought to stay warm in those first minutes. I don’t think I’ve ever forgiven the world for that. And that’s a part of my success.
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Marcy thought the house her ex-husband grew up in looked haunted. He never thought of it that way, but when he returns to tidy up after his father’s death he finds himself thinking maybe she was right after all.
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