Read Online SAY GOODBYE TO ARCHIE: A Rex Graves Mini-Mystery by C.S. Challinor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: C.S. Challinor
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the least.”
“Pity Archie couldn’t just write the letters and give us more of a clue.”
Patricia looked at him as though disappointed in a bright pupil. “Well, he can’t write, naturally.”
Rex noted the present tense. Clearly Archie lived on in her mind.
“Sewing scissors.” Patricia paused long enough to make Rex ask her what she meant. “Dot had a pair with her yesterday in her knitting bag. I saw them when she cut a length of yarn in the garden. You were sitting out there. You might have seen them. Before that, the bag was in the kitchen, on one of the chairs, and Roger’s cardigan was in the back parlour were he left it.”
“You’re suggesting someone used the scissors to snip off his button?”
“Or else Roger lost it when he was getting the foxglove Wednesday night to poison Archie’s food with.”
“But would Roger wear his favourite cardigan to rummage in the garden?”
“Roger is not gifted with the greatest good sense,” Patricia remarked. “But I’m convinced the red on the blotter points to either Roger or Dot.” She sat back wearily in her leather chair. “Or could it be blood? It’s all rather sinister, especially in light of the note.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Rex admitted. “But I didn’t want to alarm you.”
The old lady sighed dispiritedly. “Please tell Connie I won’t be having dinner. I’m not hungry. I’ll just stay here awhile.”
“Can I bring you anything? Some tea, perhaps?”
“No, thank you, Reginald. I just need a bit of peace and quiet. It’s been rather a tiring day.”
“Patricia,” he asked on his way to the door. “Do you have a paper knife?”
“Just this,” she said, pulling out a wooden envelope opener with a handle carved in the shape of a thistle. “It was a present from your mother.” She gave a wan smile.
Rex felt a small measure of relief. It did not look at all deadly.
*
Dinner promised to be a sombre affair. Clearly Charles was only staying out of politeness, and he had made it clear he needed to leave immediately afterwards to get back to London. Connie heated up the casserole and set the table in the kitchen, “Since it’s just the three of us,” she said. She extracted a batch of rolls from the microwave. The fluorescent lighting accentuated her crow’s feet, the tramlines between her brows, and the brackets around her mouth. Charles opened a bottle of claret and after the first glass became more animated. After the second, his already ruddy cheeks were well flushed. Inevitably the conversation turned to Archie’s death, and brother and sister talked in hushed tones even though Patricia had gone upstairs to bed.
“She would have left him the house. And a cat charity gets most of the money,” Charles divulged, his tongue loosened by wine.
“You don’t know that for sure,” Connie said, ladling out seconds of stew to which Dot had added potatoes and carrots from her garden.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Charles revealed. “I saw the will.”
“You never!” Connie exclaimed. “When?”
“Thursday night when I was… Well, never mind what I was doing. Mother’s desk was unlocked and curiosity got the better of me. I got a paper cut for my trouble.” He showed his sister a pale scar on his index finger. Rex had to wonder if the man was accident prone. A cut, and then a twisted ankle. “I’ve always wanted to know what was in that wretched will,” Charles said. “And now I do.”
Rex remained quiet during this exchange. In the siblings’ excitement he was all but forgotten, although Connie gave him a guilty glance before eagerly asking her brother, “Well?”
Charles cleared his throat and leaned in conspiratorially. “Thanks to Archie popping off first, the terms of the will are more in line with what one might expect, though not enough to make either of us rich. Excuse us,” Charles apologized to Rex. “You must think us very indelicate to be discussing private matters in
“Pity Archie couldn’t just write the letters and give us more of a clue.”
Patricia looked at him as though disappointed in a bright pupil. “Well, he can’t write, naturally.”
Rex noted the present tense. Clearly Archie lived on in her mind.
“Sewing scissors.” Patricia paused long enough to make Rex ask her what she meant. “Dot had a pair with her yesterday in her knitting bag. I saw them when she cut a length of yarn in the garden. You were sitting out there. You might have seen them. Before that, the bag was in the kitchen, on one of the chairs, and Roger’s cardigan was in the back parlour were he left it.”
“You’re suggesting someone used the scissors to snip off his button?”
“Or else Roger lost it when he was getting the foxglove Wednesday night to poison Archie’s food with.”
“But would Roger wear his favourite cardigan to rummage in the garden?”
“Roger is not gifted with the greatest good sense,” Patricia remarked. “But I’m convinced the red on the blotter points to either Roger or Dot.” She sat back wearily in her leather chair. “Or could it be blood? It’s all rather sinister, especially in light of the note.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Rex admitted. “But I didn’t want to alarm you.”
The old lady sighed dispiritedly. “Please tell Connie I won’t be having dinner. I’m not hungry. I’ll just stay here awhile.”
“Can I bring you anything? Some tea, perhaps?”
“No, thank you, Reginald. I just need a bit of peace and quiet. It’s been rather a tiring day.”
“Patricia,” he asked on his way to the door. “Do you have a paper knife?”
“Just this,” she said, pulling out a wooden envelope opener with a handle carved in the shape of a thistle. “It was a present from your mother.” She gave a wan smile.
Rex felt a small measure of relief. It did not look at all deadly.
*
Dinner promised to be a sombre affair. Clearly Charles was only staying out of politeness, and he had made it clear he needed to leave immediately afterwards to get back to London. Connie heated up the casserole and set the table in the kitchen, “Since it’s just the three of us,” she said. She extracted a batch of rolls from the microwave. The fluorescent lighting accentuated her crow’s feet, the tramlines between her brows, and the brackets around her mouth. Charles opened a bottle of claret and after the first glass became more animated. After the second, his already ruddy cheeks were well flushed. Inevitably the conversation turned to Archie’s death, and brother and sister talked in hushed tones even though Patricia had gone upstairs to bed.
“She would have left him the house. And a cat charity gets most of the money,” Charles divulged, his tongue loosened by wine.
“You don’t know that for sure,” Connie said, ladling out seconds of stew to which Dot had added potatoes and carrots from her garden.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Charles revealed. “I saw the will.”
“You never!” Connie exclaimed. “When?”
“Thursday night when I was… Well, never mind what I was doing. Mother’s desk was unlocked and curiosity got the better of me. I got a paper cut for my trouble.” He showed his sister a pale scar on his index finger. Rex had to wonder if the man was accident prone. A cut, and then a twisted ankle. “I’ve always wanted to know what was in that wretched will,” Charles said. “And now I do.”
Rex remained quiet during this exchange. In the siblings’ excitement he was all but forgotten, although Connie gave him a guilty glance before eagerly asking her brother, “Well?”
Charles cleared his throat and leaned in conspiratorially. “Thanks to Archie popping off first, the terms of the will are more in line with what one might expect, though not enough to make either of us rich. Excuse us,” Charles apologized to Rex. “You must think us very indelicate to be discussing private matters in
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