I love the smell of gasoline in the morning

we love heroes, we tremble for the poor girl named guilty by the press and the corrupt authorities ... Oops qq I would reveal something important.
Well too bad: a clue. The culprit is not Colonel Mustard with the Kalashnikov in the spa.

Only regret: it took too many years between the publication in large cumbersome format and this version pocket, which takes three times less space on my shelves.