File Under: 13 Suspicious Incidents (All the Wrong Questions)
Lemony Snicket
Language: English
Pages: 272
ISBN: 0316284033
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
missing item. My biggest case revolved around an item that kept disappearing and reappearing all over town. I decided to go to the train station, the only other place I knew Ms. Dressing had been, and looked up at the street sign so I might figure out which way to go. YAMGRAZ DRIVE I looked at it a minute. Sometimes when you encounter a new word, you begin to see it everywhere. A mystery is solved with a story, but there was something about Lois Dressing’s story that I hadn’t understood from
shelves kept offering books that again and again turned out to be just what I needed at the time. But this afternoon what I needed was to go outside. Nothing told me this. I just shut the fifth book I’d tried, and knew. The book had begun with a brute of a man who attacked a little girl, and then felt bad about it and offered her family a huge sum of money that he’d stolen from a famous scientist. If that didn’t interest me, it was time to leave the library. Outside it was foggy, which was also
Palookaville, Clyde Fans, and The Great Northern Brotherhood of Canadian Cartoonists and can be blamed for the art in All the Wrong Questions. Contents COVER TITLE PAGE WELCOME INTRODUCTION SUB-FILE ONE: REPORTS. VIOLENT BUTCHER. TWELVE OR THIRTEEN. MIDNIGHT DEMON. THREE SUSPECTS. VANISHED MESSAGE. TROUBLESOME GHOST. FIGURE IN FOG. SUB-FILE B: CONCLUSIONS. SMALL SOUND. CHALKED NAME. PANICKED FEET. VERY OBVIOUS. MESSAGE RECEIVED. TRAIN WRECK. SHOUTED WORD. SUB-FILE III: ALL THE WRONG QUESTIONS A
peaked, and his beard so rough and scraggly like a grouping of trees on his chin, that he actually looked like a mountain. I didn’t have the proper equipment to climb him, so I tried a different approach. “Excuse me,” I said, but the man shook his mountainous head. “Sorry, chief,” the man said. “I can’t let anybody in here. You shouldn’t drink coffee, anyway. It’s bad for you.” “It’s bad for you if you never do anything bad for you,” I said, “but I’m not here for coffee. I’m looking for
don’t like people I don’t know, so why don’t you skedaddle? I can’t let anyone in here until I find the kid I’m here to find.” “Maybe we’re looking for the same person,” I said. He looked interested, but not mountainously so. “Maybe,” he said. “Mine is a girl,” I said. “A little taller than I am, with black hair, green eyes, and unusual eyebrows.” “Wrong,” the man said, with another gigantic shake of his head. “Mine’s a boy named Drumstick, and he’s preternaturally short, with curly red hair