Then again, since the kitchen was one of the common rooms in the main building, I could have walked in when Aggie was halfway through her lunch, which I’m sure would have been more distressing for at least one of us. In truth, I sounded a wee bit hysterical, and I wished with all sincerity that I had walked into the kitchen five minutes later. “You can’t eat that!” I tried to sound firm, like a responsible human and business owner should. She seemed so normal, if you overlooked her timely payment of the rent each week and the fact that she had taken up residence in The Jumble three weeks ago and seemed to be enjoying herself. Until that moment, I hadn’t known I had a scream that could crack glass I hadn’t wondered if an eyeball would puff up and explode in a wave-cooker like those animal-shaped marshmallows and I hadn’t realized my lodger-Agatha “call me Aggie” Crowe-was that kind of Crow. I wouldn’t have known about the dead man if I hadn’t walked into the kitchen at the exact moment my one and only lodger was about to warm up an eyeball in the wave-cooker.
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