Body in the Transept by Jeanne M. Dams

Author:Jeanne M. Dams [Dams, Jeanne M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Historical
ISBN: 9780061011337
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 363082
Publisher: HarperTorch
Published: 1995-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

11

I OVERSLEPT WEDNESDAY morning, waking at last with a head full of marbles that rolled around dizzyingly and every now and then crashed into one another with a dull thud. My bed was a welter of sheets and blankets from hours of thrashing about; my pillow was damp with sweat. It’s a common enough dream: You’re trying to run away from some unknown but horrible thing, but your legs are too heavy and draggy to move. I got up to feed my demanding companion, feeling like crawling into a hole.

Once she was fed I took three aspirin, made some strong coffee, and sat down at the kitchen table to have a talk with myself. If I was having nightmares about running away from something, it was time I faced up to my situation.

Which was, I realized as I stared into my coffee cup, that I had to fish or cut bait. To put it baldly, I had to decide whether to get into a murder investigation with both feet, or to get out of it entirely and leave it to the police. This business of asking leading questions and making everyone extremely uncomfortable had to stop, unless I was prepared to admit that I was vitally interested and intended to pursue, vigorously, an unknown criminal.

I reached for a pad and pen and began slowly to make another set of lists, considering each point with great care.

Why Should I Get Involved?

I’m involved already. I found him; he’ll lie there in my memory forever, terrifying me.

No argument there.

Some of my friends, and friends offriends, are suspects. I’d like to do what I can to help them.

Shaky. What makes you think the police can’t find the real criminal without your help?

I need something to do.

Oh, come on, now! Why not join a rock band, while you’re at it? Act your age!

In response to that mental jeering, I defiantly wrote:

I have many of the qualifications needed by a detective. Years of teaching school have taught me when someone is lying. I’m a good observer, especially here in a foreign setting where so much is unfamiliar. Finally, I’m invisible. Except for a few people who really know me, I’m a foreigner who doesn’t count. If I play my cards right, people will talk to me the way they do to strangers on board ship. They’ll never see me again, and I know no one who knows them, so it doesn’t matter what they say.

I considered that dubiously for a while and then began the second list.

Why Shouldn’t I Get Involved?

It’s dangerous.

Goodness knows the chief constable’s tried to make that clear. But do I believe him? Do I care?

It’s unnecessary; the police . . .

Beside the point. Let the police do their thing. Why shouldn’t we both be pursuing the truth in our own way? Besides, it’s six days now since the murder and they haven’t done anything but arrest Nigel and let him go again.

I could hurt people. The Endicotts . . .

That one hit home.

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