Read Online Murder Most Convenient: A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery by Robert Colton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Colton
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capable of being ever so charming when they chose.
The courses were served, all very nice, and then we made our way to the drawing room. There was talk of playing cards when Phyllis joined us, looking rather tired from the long day. However, we never opened a deck.
Instead, Ruth told me and Lucy all that she knew about French art. She was fond of the safe subject. I wished I had my pencil and pad, but I could tell from Lucy’s occasional question that she was recording all of the information in her head.
Once Ruth had tired of the subject of French art, Randolph, who had been on his best behavior, asked, “How was the luncheon with the vicar’s wife?”
“Tedious,” responded Phyllis before I could. She then leaned forward so that Nicholas could light another cigarette for her.
“She did enjoy entertaining us,” I added.
“Did she tell you all about the many mystery books she has read?” Ruth inquired, sipping very slowly on a snifter of brandy.
“Yes, and some of the local scandal as well,” I replied.
I could not help but notice Phyllis and Nicholas’s eyes meet for just an instant.
“She keeps spreading lies about a poor wretch who lost her child. I hope you know she can’t be believed,” Ruth said. She hadn’t noticed the look passed between her husband and her former secretary.
Phyllis let out a puff of smoke from her dark-stained lips, and added, “Or trusted.”
Nate stood from the floor at Ruth’s side; the dog walked around in a tight circle and then lay back down at his mistress’s feet. She reached down and stroked him before casting a queer gaze at Phyllis.
Randolph, now inspecting his nails, asked me, “It is the end of day two, master sleuth, have you your clues, suspects, and a villain?”
I looked quickly across the room at the faces that watched me and replied, “I do.”
Phyllis, very dramatically, flicked her ash into a silver dish and said, “Now you just need a victim.”
Ruth, her husband, and his brother made the polite laughter that was called for by such a sarcastically said statement, while the domestics observed our strangely tense moment in silence.
Chapter Six
Lucy and I ate breakfast alone. Both Nicholas and Randolph passed through the dining room and gave their greetings, but neither joined us. Once more, we were warned that their wives slept in, and we shouldn’t expect to see them until luncheon. This suited us just fine.
Lucy and I set up in the library, and I dictated the outline of my whodunit. The story went as follows, Miss X, with her trusty sidekick, Miss W, were invited to a country estate for the weekend. Miss W’s uncle was hosting a celebration, as he planned to announce his engagement to the Lady A.
Near tragedy strikes when a storm knocks down the power lines. Gathered in the drawing room, so that Uncle can share the good news, the guests find themselves in darkness and hear a terrible thud.
The light comes back on, and poor Uncle has been struck on the back of the head by a candelabra. It is now up to Miss X, with the help of Miss W, to first deduce the motivation, and then the culprit.
As with so many other novels of the genre, I needed to come up with a character who was a major or a colonel. I would have to study on the Great War to give him a credible background.
I had my vicar’s wife, and knew the actual woman would be ever so flattered once she read my work. (This does remind me, I will be in need of at least two dozen advanced copies once this goes into publication. I shall leave these arrangements to you. Mr. Jack can see to having them parceled after I have made some personalized inscription in each.)
The idea of the poor local woman, who either had an abortion or a miscarriage, at first, fit my role as the lady suffering from unrequited love. However, had my intended victim actually had
The courses were served, all very nice, and then we made our way to the drawing room. There was talk of playing cards when Phyllis joined us, looking rather tired from the long day. However, we never opened a deck.
Instead, Ruth told me and Lucy all that she knew about French art. She was fond of the safe subject. I wished I had my pencil and pad, but I could tell from Lucy’s occasional question that she was recording all of the information in her head.
Once Ruth had tired of the subject of French art, Randolph, who had been on his best behavior, asked, “How was the luncheon with the vicar’s wife?”
“Tedious,” responded Phyllis before I could. She then leaned forward so that Nicholas could light another cigarette for her.
“She did enjoy entertaining us,” I added.
“Did she tell you all about the many mystery books she has read?” Ruth inquired, sipping very slowly on a snifter of brandy.
“Yes, and some of the local scandal as well,” I replied.
I could not help but notice Phyllis and Nicholas’s eyes meet for just an instant.
“She keeps spreading lies about a poor wretch who lost her child. I hope you know she can’t be believed,” Ruth said. She hadn’t noticed the look passed between her husband and her former secretary.
Phyllis let out a puff of smoke from her dark-stained lips, and added, “Or trusted.”
Nate stood from the floor at Ruth’s side; the dog walked around in a tight circle and then lay back down at his mistress’s feet. She reached down and stroked him before casting a queer gaze at Phyllis.
Randolph, now inspecting his nails, asked me, “It is the end of day two, master sleuth, have you your clues, suspects, and a villain?”
I looked quickly across the room at the faces that watched me and replied, “I do.”
Phyllis, very dramatically, flicked her ash into a silver dish and said, “Now you just need a victim.”
Ruth, her husband, and his brother made the polite laughter that was called for by such a sarcastically said statement, while the domestics observed our strangely tense moment in silence.
Chapter Six
Lucy and I ate breakfast alone. Both Nicholas and Randolph passed through the dining room and gave their greetings, but neither joined us. Once more, we were warned that their wives slept in, and we shouldn’t expect to see them until luncheon. This suited us just fine.
Lucy and I set up in the library, and I dictated the outline of my whodunit. The story went as follows, Miss X, with her trusty sidekick, Miss W, were invited to a country estate for the weekend. Miss W’s uncle was hosting a celebration, as he planned to announce his engagement to the Lady A.
Near tragedy strikes when a storm knocks down the power lines. Gathered in the drawing room, so that Uncle can share the good news, the guests find themselves in darkness and hear a terrible thud.
The light comes back on, and poor Uncle has been struck on the back of the head by a candelabra. It is now up to Miss X, with the help of Miss W, to first deduce the motivation, and then the culprit.
As with so many other novels of the genre, I needed to come up with a character who was a major or a colonel. I would have to study on the Great War to give him a credible background.
I had my vicar’s wife, and knew the actual woman would be ever so flattered once she read my work. (This does remind me, I will be in need of at least two dozen advanced copies once this goes into publication. I shall leave these arrangements to you. Mr. Jack can see to having them parceled after I have made some personalized inscription in each.)
The idea of the poor local woman, who either had an abortion or a miscarriage, at first, fit my role as the lady suffering from unrequited love. However, had my intended victim actually had
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