The weather on this particular night was properly miserable and English; chilly and wet, with rain that couldn't quite decide whether it wanted to fall or not.  It was the kind of weather, in fact, that made Bertie very glad indeed that he was currently lounging about inside his warm and comfortable flat with a w and s in one hand and a lazily ( Read more... )

Bertie lounged in one of the plush chairs in the main room of the flat, immersing himself in Rex West's latest detective novel.   A lazy gasper smouldered away in his fingers, and, raising it to his lips, he allowed his head to fall backwards as he exhaled an indulgent plume of smoke, hovering in the still, inside air.  The clock on the mantelpiece ( Read more... )