Death in Silhouette: A Classic Crime Novel by John Russell Fearn

Author:John Russell Fearn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: British, mystery, crime, women sleuths, locked-room
ISBN: 9781479409679
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2013-05-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

As Maria drove back towards the Taylor home, Pat had a good deal to say, in pent, urgent tones, as though she had found it hard work to have bottled it up thus far.

“If anybody had a really good motive for wanting to be rid of Keith, that psalm-singing old buzzard had!” she declared. Her fists were clenched and her dark eyes bright “I’ve never liked him, Miss Black—I’ve told you that dozens of times—even though I’ve known him for such a long time. I don’t…trust him. I don’t believe that any man who spouts Scripture to the extent he does can be genuine. That’s a cover-up.”

Maria smiled faintly, her attention on her driving,

“My dear girl, because Mr. Robinson ‘spouts’ Scripture as you poetically put it, it does not necessarily cast his character in doubt. He probably finds that sayings from the Scriptures express his emotions far better than everyday language. Some people have a penchant for reciting quotations to get their point over more clearly; others seek recourse to Latin phrases. Still others again use dialogue from famous plays. Certainly I don’t think there is any significance in the point.… I do, however, think that Mr. Robinson has some difficulty in keeping his mind fixed on one thing at a time. He repeated himself several times and, in places, even went back on himself. Most unusual. Maybe his nerves are not overstrong.”

“Maybe lots of things,” Pat said, folding her arms and sitting back stubbornly in the bucket seat. “And I still don’t like him! Oh, that reminds me! A thought occurred to me whilst you were talking to him about that drug.…”

“A thought?” Maria questioned. “About what?”

“About Greg, as a matter of fact, and the way he took the announcement of my engagement to Keith. He showed as far as he could, without actual words, that he thoroughly disapproved of the idea. Had he wanted, I’m sure he could have drugged Keith’s wine when the attention of the rest of us was diverted for a moment. But if he did, I can’t for the life of me think what his object could be. It doesn’t make sense.”

“At this stage,” Maria said, “I think we cannot do better than leave the possibility of drugged wine in abeyance—at least until we have some more definite proof. There are so many other angles to consider.…”

They returned home to find that Mrs. Taylor had got back from her shopping expedition: she was making preparations for lunch. To her natural curiosity Maria only gave matter-of-fact answers, which did not give away any details. She adopted similar tactics when Mr. Taylor and Gregory—home at lunchtime for the weekend—also plied her with questions. They had to accept her reserve, but the look in the eyes of Gregory, at least, showed he did not like it.

It had reached two o’clock before Pulp Martin’s telegram arrived. After Pat had brought it in Maria read it to herself, and smiled:

Land in Redford at 3:45. Yours on the nose—Pulp.

“Bad news?” Mr.

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