Murder Rents a Room

Hello, I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Yes, this is the crime club. I'm the librarian. Murder Rents a Room. Yes, we have that crime club book for you. Come right over. Take the easy chair by the window.

Comfortable. The book is on this shelf. Here it is. Murder Rents a Room. By Sarah Elizabeth Mason, the very intriguing story of an old homestead that sold hospitality until death became a border. Let's look at it under the reading lamp.

The great plantation of Cliff's Edge had once been the pride and the showplace of the community, but that had been a long time ago and nobody remembered. Now it was just thousands of acres of dried out desolate land.

And on the house of a once-been magnificent, there was a sign hunting, fishing, rooms for rent. Yes, times had certainly changed on the great plantation of Cliff's Edge. It was late morning of a fine spring day, just three days after the body of Uncle Brock Curtis had been found in the swamp.

a bullet in his head. Now Uncle Brock was lying peacefully among his ancestors on the hill. And his survivors, having paid their last respects, were in the huge living room of the house, waiting. Yes, they were waiting for Lee Randall to read the will.

And so was Sheriff Bill Davies, as he stood unnoticed by the door with Tom, his deputy. Well, how about Lee? All right, Kitty, give me a moment to break the seal. Want me to get you an axe?

Kitty! What's the matter with you, Kate? You might be a little more respectful. Uncle Brock hasn't been in his grave more than half an hour. I've shed all the tears I'm going to. I'm tired, honey.