Blood Will Tell by Mary Bowers

Author:Mary Bowers [Bowers, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2017-08-04T23:00:00+00:00

(Excerpt from The Santorini Horror, by Edson Darby-Deaver, PhD)

Chapter 17

I had refrained from asking Taylor the only important question regarding our confusing conversation: had she felt an irresistible urge to call me because it was important for her to attend the meeting that was about to take place? Had she tapped into that nebula of conjoined human thought that surrounds us all and received that wave of unease (so often described by psychics) which precedes received knowledge? Had her call been prompted by a paranormal nudge? I burned to know, but I dared not ask.

She is still in deep denial about her abilities, and tends to overreact if I broach the subject, so I have learned to lay back and observe. Physically, she is one of those strong women of the Valkyrie mold, but the suggestion that she is special in any way makes her fretful. I interpret this as a sublimation of her true fears about the unknown. She projects anger, when in fact she is needy.

Fortunately, I am always there to help.

In addition to bringing her into the meeting, her call had prompted me to invite Gretel. Though she and Taylor were not residents of Santorini, and therefore not suspects, I realized that their input would be invaluable.

As I walked across Santorini Drive towards Dan Ryder’s house and the planned discussion on the murder of Harriet Harvey Strawbridge, I reflected on the irony that though we had narrowed down our list of suspects, the attendance at the meeting had grown to the point where the killer, if our theory was wrong, might very well be in attendance. I usually relish such ironies, but this time I reminded myself to be on my guard.

With the exception of Kip and Linda (our primary suspects, for reasons which will unfold presently), and Sherman and Carr, all the neighbors had been invited. Sherman, since the murder of Harriet and the dawning realization that he had been alone in the house that night with a killer who was moving about plunging knives into sleeping chests, had been in the same delicate nervous state as his nephew, Carr. A highly-strung family. Unless, of course, he had done the plunging himself, in which case it was a guilty conscience, but at the point of the meeting, we were looking in another direction: the gold-digger and her dupe (Trixie’s terminology; pithy, but apt). Still, Sherman had been alone with Harriet at the time of her murder, and his nephew was, in fact, his nephew. So we did not invite them. Later, perhaps, when our ideas had had time to ripen.

Dan welcomed me in, offering beverages, and I opted for ice water. It was bad enough that Trixie was already there and this time she’d brought her own wine. Dan was drinking beer. Somebody needed to stay sober. I informed Dan of the two late additions to the meeting, and he nodded silently. Nothing perturbs him.

Willa was seated on the love seat, clinging to a corner and looking washed-out, even ghostly, in a patch of direct sunlight.

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