The Vathiriel Blade by Brantingham Mark

Author:Brantingham, Mark [Brantingham, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-01-08T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21: A Nasty Fall

“Well,” said Conway, biting a nail, “didn’t you tell me I should kill her?” He was pressing his hat to his chest and staring down at the corpse of his wife. Cook stood next to him at the bottom of the cellar stairs. The tarp was thrown back, and Kellenne’s neck was bent sideways, her eyes slightly misaligned. Her posture was impossibly relaxed, all the angles subtly wrong. Roland stood at the top of the wooden staircase.

Conway wiped his brow with his hand. “You said it would improve business.” He gestured towards her with his hat. “All I’m asking is some help with the body. Aren’t you the expert? Can’t I lean on my friends in a time of tragedy?” He turned to face Cook with theatrical, searching eyes. Cook didn’t move. He just stared down at Kellenne. Conway fidgeted with his hat. “I did my part,” he added meekly. “A thing like this doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m an academic at heart, though I never made a success of myself in the...conventional sense. I suppose that I fell victim to overzealous loyalty.” Conway hesitated—he was talking to the side of Cook’s face. “May I rely on your discretion? That, and the use of Roland’s strong back.” An oily grin passed Conway’s face, immediately to be replaced by uncertainty.

“You killed her in the kitchen, you said.” Cook’s voice was dry and detached, his eyes fixed on the body.

“Yes.” Conway responded, his words full of an eerie enthusiasm. “And realizing my mistake, proceeded to push her down the stairs where she could be more easily concealed from Daphne. And others, of course.”

“You must have spent half the night cleaning up the blood, the way her jaw is caved in. Why the hell you beat her so hard? I can barely recognize her. In fact, I’m taking your word it’s Kellenne at all. Gonna make it pretty difficult to pass this one off as a nasty fall down the stairs. What do we tell her family?”

Conway’s face lit up. “Kill them too,” he laughed, sobering up quickly as he noticed the look exchanged between Cook and Roland. He cleared his throat and looked down respectfully into his wife’s blank eyes.

Cook shook his head. “It’s a lot of trouble, Conway. A whole lot of explaining. Say...are you sure that in all the hours of blood-mopping that must have taken place, your niece didn’t creep down the stairs from her bedroom for a glass of water and bear witness to this horror?”

Conway shook his head. “Beyond doubtful. Daphne would have screamed. She lacks the capacity to dissemble. Besides...I’d have heard her come down the stairs.”

“She has small feet.”

“She isn’t a faerie, Cook. She isn’t a ghost.” Conway waved his arms in grossly exaggerated fashion. “This house makes noise. I would have heard her. Of that I’m certain.”

Cook stood there looking down at Kellenne for several moments, standing next to Conway who was wringing the brim of his hat. Finally Cook sighed and laughed softly, shaking his head and placing a hand on Conway’s shoulder.

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