MOTHER’S DAY an unputdownable psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist (Totally Gripping Psychological Thrillers) by PATRICIA MACDONALD

Author:PATRICIA MACDONALD [MACDONALD, PATRICIA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books psychological thriller and crime
Published: 2022-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

While Emily searched in the bedroom closet for her rain bonnet, Walter stood at the kitchen sink, washing up his few breakfast dishes. His sister, Sylvia, was seated at the table, waiting for Emily.

“Walter, you need a dishwasher,” she advised. “And a microwave. And look at this floor. The linoleum is worn through in places. Well, what do you expect? Mother had that put down the year Father died. That’s going on half a century now. Time flies.”

Walter dried his coffee cup and put it up in the old cupboard. Sylvia grimaced as the cupboard door creaked on its hinges. “I don’t know how you can stand this old place. Look at these old Currier and Ives prints. They’re going to fall off the wall any day now. Why don’t you take two minutes and fix them?”

Walter put away his saucer and closed the cupboard door. Sylvia sighed. “I don’t know how you can stand this old place,” she said. “Now, I like living in Seaside Village. Everything is new. If something breaks, somebody comes in right away and fixes it. I mean, if you’re not handy,” she said, looking pointedly at her brother, who was cleaning off his glasses with a paper towel, apparently oblivious of her, “you’ve got no business in an old place like this.”

Walter held his glasses up to the old hanging light fixture and squinted through them to be sure all the smudges were gone. “Tell you the truth,” Sylvia went on, “I never wanted to set foot in this place again after Mother died. It seems like there was nothing but sickness and gloom in the house. . . .” She shuddered.

“You’re the most morbid person I know,” Walter observed calmly, replacing his glasses on his nose. “Why else would you be going to this funeral today, except that you like the idea of a murder victim’s funeral?”

Sylvia drew herself up indignantly. “For your information, I have known the Emerys for years through the church. They have no other family, to speak of. If you were more active yourself in your parish . . .”

“You know Emily doesn’t do well with funerals,” said Walter.

“Nonsense,” Sylvia sniffed. “It doesn’t matter whether Emily goes to a funeral or a garden party. Emily has a constitutional weakness. You know it as well as I do.”

Emily’s voice wafted to them down the hall. “I’m just looking for my gloves. I’ll be right there.”

Sylvia stood up and adjusted her skirt. “You should be going to this funeral, Walter. Seeing who shows up. They say that killers often can’t resist turning up at their victims’ funerals.”

“I’ll leave the crepe hanging to you,” said Walter.

“Rather irresponsible,” said Sylvia. “In light of the fact that you were the one who let the killer get away.”

Walter did not reply. He put on his jacket and walked to the back door. He stood there for a second, looking out at the rain. “Well, you enjoy the festivities, now,” he said to his sister. “You’ve got a perfect day for it.

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