I really tried hard to like this because it's a murder that was set up to look like suicide but for one stupid thing like that this book is 250 pages of filler crap. So much tea drinking, chatting, yadayadayada. I really hated the repetition, lack of other cases, the things she writes that she thinks are amusing didn't amuse me. I could barely stand reading it. I did try my best.
Who knows what the f this means: 'Tattoos were not my thing. Vinyl is.' Atherton said, arguing to be the one to go. "I've looked up the address, and it's on the corner of Brook Green-the road, I mean." HOW UTTERLY BORING. Just put me the fuck to sleep. I got half thru the stupid ass book.
No stars, lots of tea drinking goin' on as well. Frickin Brit crap.
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