Best 31 quotes of Ed Lynskey on MyQuotes

A diamond wedding ring, you say?” I studied his face. Was he putting me on? He looked earnest. “As any guy would expect, a diamond is what she’s after,” I said. “Did you hold out hope you’d get by for anything less?

Alma didn’t want Isabel to start singing the praises of their pet, a rescue beagle, or she wouldn’t shush until sundown. “I’ve found the missing lady,” Alma said. “Say welcome home, Betsy Sweet.

Dreema and you disagree. She cottons to Richmond, but you can't be weaned off Pelham. So I offer you a fair middle ground: relocate to northern Virginia. She transfers to the state morgue on Braddock Road, and you get to stay near your old beat.

Get a load of this, Frank.” Gerald Peyton’s pause set off his pronouncement. “She is expecting to get a wedding ring.” “That’s understandable,” I said, unsure how he could afford a ring on what our firm cleared. Diamond rings—more sold in December than in any other month of the year—went for a cool grand per karat. Weeks ago, I’d priced them—again—for my domestic situation. “What seems to be the problem?” “That’s a big leap for me to make.” “I expect you’ll make it with room to spare.

He peeled out the banknotes from inside a billfold held on a chain and paid her. Andy Jackson’s eyes were X’d out. For an edgy instant she wondered if his money was counterfeit. She also noted his missing middle finger, and a skull tattoo decorated his sinewy wrist. She put down the card key. “You’re in Seven, straight down the courtyard.” He slid the card key off, but it fell to the floor. "Oops. I haven’t gotten used to this high gravity.” “I beg your pardon?” “Nothing. I’m just punchy from all the driving.

His agility surprised Phoebe Ash. She saw the plaster cast on his right leg. Funny messages in ink—“Go break the left one, tiger!”—had been written on the off-white plaster.

I cadged a complimentary green matchbook with a gold bird icon from the Bell canning jar. Later we'd use the matches to light our spliffs. My fingertips tapped the stem to the gizmo that dinged a bell. Nobody came out. Wrong signal, so I did two bell rings. No response prompted me to tap out a series of bell rings.

I let my gaze travel out the picture window. Unlike at my old doublewide trailer perched on the fringe of a played out quarry, here I owned a real yard with real grass that screamed for mowing each Monday a.m. I sat at the kitchen table, cooling off from just having finished this week's job. Yes, here in 2005, I was a full-fledged suburbanite, but I'd been called worse.

In near panic, I craned my neck to gaze over the cabin’s roofline a bursting fireball.

Isabel frowned. “Alma Trumbo, you did not just dig up a human bone from our flowerbed. It’s got to be a dinosaur bone, dinky or not.” “A dinosaur bone, eh?” The short, stout Alma gave her tall, slim sister the old up and down. “What then, are we the Flintstones living in Bedrock?

Megan stepping back let her glance switch from Alma to Isabel and return to Alma. No doubt about it, thought Megan. Created as much alike as any sisters ever had been, their resemblance started with their matching red-and-white polka dot blouses. Since she was a young girl, she had matched their eye colors to their different personalities.

My feet crunched over dry hickory leaves. Wood rangers had stapled up Smokey Bear (“Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires!”) signs along the state roads. One cigarette butt flicked out a passing car window and there’d be real hell to pay.

Petey Samson gave the ladies an over-the-shoulder glance. He realized no doggie treat was forthcoming, even from Isabel who was usually the soft mark to hit up. He scratched his front claws to re-attack the sand.

Quote is taken from Chapter 1: A decade ago when Isabel’s husband Max had died, they’d moved in together and merged their possessions. Neither sister brought any fussy teapots, canaries, sachets, or doilies, but lots of other stuff had to either stay or go. Looking at the lime green armchair gave Alma the willies. Her suggestion to slipcover it in a more subdued color had garnered Isabel’s frosty stare, and Alma had dropped the matter.

Quote is taken from Chapter 1: Since Etta could log in her rare Baltimore oriole sighting, she decided she’d had enough birding for one day. It was just a fun hobby, not an obsession.

Quote taken from Chapter 1: A grave matter has just arisen.” Etta hadn’t intended to make the pun. She went on. “It’s a problem right up your alley.

Quote taken from Chapter 1 Bill hung up, grumbling to nobody in particular. Emily was about the only caller using the landline phone, and he regretted not getting rid of it. The Robinses were probably the lone holdouts on their city block to still have one.

Quote taken from Chapter 1: I know what." Isabel reached under the end table, took out the game board, and rattled the Band-Aid box containing the letter tiles. "It's been a week-and-a-half since our last Scrabble game.

Quote taken from Chapter 1 of The Corpse Wore Gingham: "You love to figure out things as much as I do,” Piper said. “Like what?” Bill asked. “You fix broken stuff,” Piper replied. “Repairing a broken toaster or steam iron is far different than unraveling a murder mystery," Bill said.

Quote taken from Chapter 1: That's the idea. Listen, Frank, this one is different. She's a keeper." He let that part gel in me. "Get your head screwed on straight and move to Richmond. You hate it living in Pelham.

Quote taken from Chapter 1: The June afternoon had clear, blue skies—ideal weather for birdwatching.

Quote taken from Chapter 1: "The police should be in it, not us. We’re out of here.” Bill did an about-face to retrace their route to the door. Piper whipped out a hand and snagged him by the shirttail. Her tone returned to crisp and decisive. “Slow down, Roadrunner. I’m not ready to leave. We’ve got work to do.” Incredulous, he stared gape-mouthed at her. “You'd better explain,” he said. She wiggled her nose. “I’m growing nosier by the second about the circumstances surrounding Anna’s murder.

She craved a tall glass of the fresh-squeezed lemonade from the pitcher she’d left chilling in the fridge. Two glasses served with a generous slice of pound cake with orange glaze icing sounded twice as nice.

Sheriff Fox was running his fingers through his thin hair. In a few short years, he’d look bald as a peeled apple. The Snoop sisters and their sidekick, the town’s bag lady no less, had traipsed into his office without knocking first. His admin (he couldn’t remember their names to save his life) had ushered them in, and they’d just dumped this hot potato into his lap.

Shouldering the duffel bag with the Marine Corps bulldog, Old Man knocked Jan's photo off the bed table. He turned to stone staring down at the photo. His face then splintered into hurt. Tears seeped into his eyes. He grappled for the nearest bedpost and slumped forward on extended arms. His shoulders jerked and head sagged a little while his heart broke. Old Man cried the mute cry of men of his generation.

So you say. I just hope you don’t catch some exotic dinosaur ailment because Eustis probably doesn’t stock the right pills to treat it.

Speaking of the devil, what is Alma doing right now?” “Well...” Sitting in her favorite armchair, Isabel craned her neck around to peer down the hallway to where she saw Alma squealing and clapping hands at their pet beagle Petey Sampson. With his tail wagging, he woof-woofed at her, and she woof-woofed right back at him.

The busy snoops like us can leave no stone unturned," Alma said.

The Quetzal Motel was a father/daughter operation, and they hurt for money but with just enough to stay in groceries. But who could tell? After tonight, their fortunes might perk up. It was better to look on the bright side. She took a deep breath and plunged back into Philip Nostrum’s realm of futuristic doings.

Within the same hour as the murder took place, Isabel Trumbo sat in her armchair dozing, the Alaskan Outdoor magazine on her lap. Her kid sister Alma fidgeted in the other armchair, from time to time picking up her newspaper folded over to the day’s crossword puzzle.

You’re a nosy sleuth like me because you can’t help it,” Alma said.