The Lady Doth Protest by Monica Knightley

Author:Monica Knightley [Knightley, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-13T22:00:00+00:00

16

Tuesday, March 8th

Rolling out scone dough, enjoying the tart aroma of the cooling lemon drizzle cakes, and listening to Gina chop celery for one of the sandwich fillings while she jabbered on about the case, I felt like this morning was like any other and that no cloud was hanging low over our little group.

Of course, in truth it wasn't a normal day, and there was, indeed, a dark, forbidding cloud hanging over us.

Eric, God bless him, had agreed, with great glee, to play the role of the assistant director in our little theater of the absurd. I watched as the mightily good-looking twenty-something took a batch of mini chocolate cakes out of the oven. I felt a pang of guilt for my continuing role in his moral downfall—this wasn't the first time I'd dragged him into lying for the sake of justice. His uncle, my dear friend, wouldn't be too happy with our plan. Best that he never know anything about it.

"Jacqui and I talked and talked about it after you left yesterday, and the more we talked the more we were sure it was Katty and that Percy or Carl man." She wielded her knife like she was taking her problems out on the celery. "I mean, who else had the most to benefit by Frank's death?" That last sentence sounded nothing like Gina—she had been spending too much time watching murder mysteries on TV.

I didn't want to remind her that while the two lovers might have had a solid motive, all of the evidence still pointed at her.

"Ahhh!" Gina shouted out. I stopped cutting out scone rounds and quickly took the three steps to the other end of the work table in order to provide whatever first aid was needed. That knife must have gotten her.

"What?" I asked, searching for blood. "What happened?"

She looked up at me, frowning. "Nothing," she said with disdain. "What's wrong with you? You're jumpy today."

"Hey, it sounded like you had stabbed yourself or something."

"Nooo…" She shook her head. "I was just realizing we haven't had a chance to talk about that Detective Petrovic. I haven't told you about the wonderful, wonderful time we had together." She laid the knife down, narrowed her eyes to mere slits, and thrust out her jaw. "He's a piece of work, let me tell you."

I laughed derisively. "Oh, I know. Remember, I had my own fun interview with him."

She waved her hand in the air, dismissively. "Your little five-minute chit-chat was nothing. I'm talking the freakin' inquisition!"

"Okay, but I can imagine."

She ignored me. "He kept asking the same questions over and over, like he had old-timer's disease. Like, he'd ask one question, then another, then come back and ask the first over again." She made a looping motion next to her ear. "I think he's got a screw loose. And I gotta say, he's not exactly friendly. I asked, really nice-like, for some coffee and he ignored me." With great fervor she chopped the last bit of celery.

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