harder.
“May I speak with you in private, Mrs Smith?” he asked.
Mrs Cuthbertson, leaning forward towards Lil to hear the rest about the tall, wealthy man, snapped, between coughs, “You wait yer turn. It ain’t manners to butt in!”
“It’s very important,” he added, ignoring her completely.
Trembling, Lil pulled Mrs Cuthbertson’s penny from the little heap of coins in the drawer and handed it back, certain this glib-looking man was a detective.
Mrs Cuthbertson stood, glowering, snatched the penny and wandered back to her Sid, muttering to herself.
Lil looked him up and down and said at last, “Please come inside.” She was convinced, as he followed her through the open door, that he was going to utter the words, “Lillian Smith, I am arresting you for the murder of…”
Scared half to death, she watched as he lowered the Gladstone bag to the floor.
Fifteen
When he said instead, “I am the only son of Horace King, the gentleman who owned this establishment,” she didn’t know whether to be relieved or scared all the more.
Perhaps he was merely here to inform her that, from now on, as sole beneficiary of his estate, he would be her landlord.
Instead, he said, “I want the fob you stole from him.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard! It was missing when his body was collected. Only you or your kid could have taken it.”
Bluffing away her fear and certain now that the watch must be worth much more than ten pounds, she snapped, “Mr King, quite apart from the fact that I am innocent of any crime, your family has brought us enough misery already. I do not have your father’s watch or anything else that belonged to him. Now, please leave us alone.”
She made to go for the door, but he didn’t budge.
As she was opening it, he said, “I’m not the only one who thinks it odd that a man of your husband’s temperament would kill in the way that was alleged.”
“Well, he did, so…”
“I could always get a private investigator to find out who really did it. The forensic techniques now are really quite breath-taking.”
She paused, looking at Robert, who had appeared at the bottom of the stairs. King added, “I’ll hire the very best in London. Money will be no…”
She turned on him. “Get out of my house!”
“No, madam, my house. I have inherited it, and every other hovel in this street, and several dozen others. Now give me the watch or you’ll be sorry.”
He was much more determined than his uncle and she knew he wasn’t going to give in as easily.
King advanced upon her again. She backed off, more frightened by the second. The windowsill dug into her thighs, and with nowhere else to go, she shoved him hard. She would never recall what happened in those next few seconds with any clarity.
It was a blur of arms and legs, Robert leaping out of the way at the last instant; King hitting the mantelpiece back first, mouth wide open in a silent scream.
She would never forget the gurgling noise coming from his throat, as he went down on his knees, with his hands groping behind his back. It wasn’t until he toppled forward on his face, and lay there gasping and raking the floorboards with his fingernails, that she realised what had happened. One of her knitting needles was stuck almost full length in his back.
Robert had staggered back as far as the stair rail, paper white with shock.
Lil’s hair had fallen into her eyes. She walked a step closer, shaking, unable to take her gaze from the long spike she guessed had fatally pierced his heart. She was wondering if she should try to pull it out, when his right hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her ankle. She yelped and stumbled, falling into an awkward sitting position, with her dress in a ruck around her.
Still holding her ankle, his face turned up towards hers, a picture of agony. He tried to speak, but a long wheeze and a frothy sound came out instead, followed by a trickle of blood. His head dropped to the
“May I speak with you in private, Mrs Smith?” he asked.
Mrs Cuthbertson, leaning forward towards Lil to hear the rest about the tall, wealthy man, snapped, between coughs, “You wait yer turn. It ain’t manners to butt in!”
“It’s very important,” he added, ignoring her completely.
Trembling, Lil pulled Mrs Cuthbertson’s penny from the little heap of coins in the drawer and handed it back, certain this glib-looking man was a detective.
Mrs Cuthbertson stood, glowering, snatched the penny and wandered back to her Sid, muttering to herself.
Lil looked him up and down and said at last, “Please come inside.” She was convinced, as he followed her through the open door, that he was going to utter the words, “Lillian Smith, I am arresting you for the murder of…”
Scared half to death, she watched as he lowered the Gladstone bag to the floor.
Fifteen
When he said instead, “I am the only son of Horace King, the gentleman who owned this establishment,” she didn’t know whether to be relieved or scared all the more.
Perhaps he was merely here to inform her that, from now on, as sole beneficiary of his estate, he would be her landlord.
Instead, he said, “I want the fob you stole from him.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard! It was missing when his body was collected. Only you or your kid could have taken it.”
Bluffing away her fear and certain now that the watch must be worth much more than ten pounds, she snapped, “Mr King, quite apart from the fact that I am innocent of any crime, your family has brought us enough misery already. I do not have your father’s watch or anything else that belonged to him. Now, please leave us alone.”
She made to go for the door, but he didn’t budge.
As she was opening it, he said, “I’m not the only one who thinks it odd that a man of your husband’s temperament would kill in the way that was alleged.”
“Well, he did, so…”
“I could always get a private investigator to find out who really did it. The forensic techniques now are really quite breath-taking.”
She paused, looking at Robert, who had appeared at the bottom of the stairs. King added, “I’ll hire the very best in London. Money will be no…”
She turned on him. “Get out of my house!”
“No, madam, my house. I have inherited it, and every other hovel in this street, and several dozen others. Now give me the watch or you’ll be sorry.”
He was much more determined than his uncle and she knew he wasn’t going to give in as easily.
King advanced upon her again. She backed off, more frightened by the second. The windowsill dug into her thighs, and with nowhere else to go, she shoved him hard. She would never recall what happened in those next few seconds with any clarity.
It was a blur of arms and legs, Robert leaping out of the way at the last instant; King hitting the mantelpiece back first, mouth wide open in a silent scream.
She would never forget the gurgling noise coming from his throat, as he went down on his knees, with his hands groping behind his back. It wasn’t until he toppled forward on his face, and lay there gasping and raking the floorboards with his fingernails, that she realised what had happened. One of her knitting needles was stuck almost full length in his back.
Robert had staggered back as far as the stair rail, paper white with shock.
Lil’s hair had fallen into her eyes. She walked a step closer, shaking, unable to take her gaze from the long spike she guessed had fatally pierced his heart. She was wondering if she should try to pull it out, when his right hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her ankle. She yelped and stumbled, falling into an awkward sitting position, with her dress in a ruck around her.
Still holding her ankle, his face turned up towards hers, a picture of agony. He tried to speak, but a long wheeze and a frothy sound came out instead, followed by a trickle of blood. His head dropped to the
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