| Imagine the urb~/~(e-John Putnam Thatcher, senior vice president of Sloan Guaranty Trust, striding down the Appalachian Trail in boots andbreeches, loaded with backpack anddehydrated rations, accompanied byan old Down East crony, Henry Mor-land. Imagine the odds of their find-ing, along that 2,000-mile trail, one Steven Lester laid to rest (albeit with a hammer) in a picturesque housing development with the wildly inappro- priate name of Fiord Haven. Consider the improbability of Thatcher and Morland-both men of great marital experience-tangling with Steven Lester s two wives, Amanda and Eu- nice, either of whom had reason to profit as a widow and both of whom . intend to. In the midst of the hectic milieu of high-pressure salesmanship and murder, their cat fights add a spe- cial poignancy to the general discord and bolster the notion that either of them could have done in Steven Lester. It is soon discovered that Lester had chanced upon something fishy about this development scheme. Ralph Valenti and Eddie Quinlan, the pro- moters, hotly |
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