Murder Knocks Twice by Susanna Calkins

Author:Susanna Calkins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

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Trying to maintain a sense of calm, Gina walked up to the Doyles’ home right at one o’clock, just as nearby church bells tolled the hour. She’d spent the last hour, wandering aimlessly around outside the church, trying to overcome a growing sense of panic and fear over the upcoming meeting. In the back of her mind, she’d known she might meet some of Marty’s relatives—her relatives—but now that this was actually happening, she was feeling nervous and tongue-tied.

She consulted Mr. Doyle’s card, to make sure she was at the correct address, even though it was obvious from all the people dressed in black and carrying covered dishes. She kept her fingers crossed that Roark would not be there.

Quickly straightening her coat and hat, Gina hoped she would look presentable when she entered the house. It was then that she noticed some men in dark suits standing by the door.

Their movements reminded her of how Gooch and Little Jimmy moved and acted at the Third Door. Were they guards? For a moment, she wondered if she was supposed to know a password. What would happen if she didn’t?

“Get a grip, Gina,” she muttered to herself. Approaching the men, she asked, “Is this Mrs. John Doyle’s home?” She felt stupid and nervous. Should she show them the card from Eddie Doyle?

She needn’t have worried. One of the men gave her a terse nod and cocked his head. “Inside.”

Inside, she walked into the grandest home she’d ever seen, with a gleaming wooden staircase rising gracefully to the second floor, a parlor to the right, and a closed-off room to her left. Everywhere mourners clumped together in murmured conversations and muffled laughter. As she walked into the parlor, she passed a huge table full of heaping trays of food. Ham, Irish soda bread, corned beef sandwiches, tiny cookies. On another table by a floor-to-ceiling window, there was a great glass tureen full of soup, and another full of a pink frothy liquid that looked like punch. In another corner, there was still another tureen with a number of glasses near it. Men were gathered beside it, pouring themselves a familiar-looking brown liquid. Whiskey.

With her stomach growling, she took a china plate from one end of the table and began to stuff it full of meats, cheeses, and salads, not caring if she was transgressing convention or propriety. She went to a corner table to eat, while still watching everything around her.

Could any of these people be her relatives? Should she try speaking to anyone? Right now, she just wanted to stuff her mouth full of food.

She was in midbite when a white-haired man approached her. “Miss Ricci?” he asked.

Trying to swallow the huge chunk of brown soda bread, she just nodded.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hiram Dern, a friend of the family and their attorney. The Doyles asked me to have you join them in their study when you arrived. Follow me, if you would. I don’t like to keep them waiting.

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