Other editions of book Raspberry Jam

"Oh, that won't bother me in the least. I know what you think, but your thoughts are so chaotic--so ignorant of the whole matter -- that they are worthless. Now, listen to this from the paper: 'Hanlon will walk blindfolded--blindfolded, mind you --through the streets of Newark, and will find an article hidden by a representative of The Free Press.' Of course, you know, Eunice, the newspaper people are on the square -- why, there'd be no sense to the whole thing otherwise! I saw an exhibition once, you were a little girl then; I remember you flew into such a rage because you couldn't go. Well, where was I? Let me see -- oh, yes -- 'Hanlon --' H'm -- h'm -- why, my goodness! it's tomorrow! How I do want to go! Do you suppose Sanford would take us?"

Excerpt from Raspberry JamI do not, unless he loses his mind first. Aunt Abby, you're crazy! What is the thing, anyway? Some common street show?If you'd listen, Eunice, and pay a little atten tion, you might know what I'm talking about. But as soon as I say telepathy - you begin to laugh and make fun of it all!I haven't heard anything yet to make fun of. What's it all about?But as she spoke, Eunice Embury was moving about the room, the big living-room of their Park Avenue apartment, and in a preoccupied way was patting her household gods on their shoulders. A readjustment Of the pink carnations in a tall glass yase, a turning round of a long-stemmed rose in a silver holder, a punch here and there to the pillows of the davenport and at last dropping down on her desk chair as a hovering butterfly settles on a chosen flower.A moment more and she was engrossed in some letters, and Aunt Abby sighed resignedly, quite hope less now oi interesting her niece in her project.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

A locked-room mystery is solved by detective Fleming Stone. Sanford Embury refused to give his wife an allowance of spending cash or even a checking account. He pays all the bills and her store charge accounts. "Eunice found it intolerable to be cramped and pinched for small amounts of ready cash, when her husband was a rich man." Sanford is found dead in bed, alone, with the door of his second-story bedroom bolted shut from the inside. Was his wife a party to the murder, or perhaps did she commit the murder in a fit of rage?

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Renowned detective Fleming Stone is back again in this captivating whodunit with some spooky supernatural elements. When a titan of industry is found dead in his lavish apartment, there is a mysterious lack of motive, means and suspects—until a relative of the victim steps forward with an incredible tale of an encounter with the dead man's ghost, whose appearance coincided with an overwhelming taste and smell of raspberry jam.

Raspberry Jam is a classic locked-room whodunit featuring Detective Fleming Stone and is widely considered to be one of the best of the Fleming Stone Mysteries. Millionaire Sanford Embury is found dead in bed, alone, with the door of his second-story bedroom bolted shut from the inside. He was known to be a controlling husband, refusing to give his pretty young wife an allowance of cash or her own checking account. Was his wife a party to the murder, or perhaps did she commit the murder in a fit of rage? Who else had a motive? And how does a clue of raspberry jam point to the killer? Curl up with the classic cozy locked-room mystery from the author of The Clue.

"You may contradict me as flat as a flounder, Eunice, but that won't alter the facts. There is something in telepathy—there is something in mind-reading—" "If you could read my mind, Aunt Abby, you'd drop that subject. For if you keep on, I may say what I think, and—" "Oh, that won't bother me in the least. I know what you think, but your thoughts are so chaotic—so ignorant of the whole matter—that they are worthless. Now, listen to this from the paper: 'Hanlon will walk blindfolded—blindfolded, mind you —through the streets of Newark, and will find an article hidden by a representative of The Free Press.