The Anodyne Necklace by Martha Grimes

Author:Martha Grimes [Grimes, Martha]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Animals, Cozy, Thrillers & Suspense, British Detectives, Thriller & Suspense, Suspense, Literature & Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense
ISBN: 9781476732855
Amazon: B00BOVCHZU
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2013-03-25T18:30:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

I

JURY looked at his hand, the one which had just shaken Melrose Plant’s, and asked, “Why would you cut off the fingers of one hand, Mr. Plant?”

It was nine-thirty in the Bold Blue Boy as Melrose Plant drew his napkin across his lap, and answered, “You’ve only just arrived, have neither inquired about the menu nor Aunt Agatha, and you’re already talking about hacked-off fingers. You certainly do get down to cases, don’t you, even when you’re two hours late for dinner. Mrs. O’Brien, who seems kindness itself in spite of her troubles, has kept the kitchen open. Molly, our waitress, showed no similar inclination until I crossed her palm with silver. I have taken the liberty of ordering; I hope you don’t mind. They do steak and chips, mullet and chips, plaice and chips. An elaborate menu, to be sure, but I was assisted in my choice by Molly, who informed me that they were out of mullet and the plaice had gone off. Thus I plumped for the steak. How are you, Superintendent? Congratulations on your long overdue promotion.”

Jury smiled. “Sorry I’m so late. And I’m sorrier yet about the weekend in Northants. My DCS heard I was planning a short holiday and immediately erased all the other names from the frame.”

“How is Chief Superintendent Racer? Awful, I hope.”

“He may not be around much longer. There is growing dissatisfaction on the part of the higher-ups.”

“Can’t imagine why. Where is Molly with our wine?” Melrose craned his neck around at the approach of a heavyset girl with a thick braid and a tray.

Molly had returned with a bottle of wine, which she set, unceremoniously, on the table. “Let’s not look at the label,” said Melrose, pouring wine into their glasses. “Shall we return to the cut-off fingers? Agatha will be crushed not to have been here. I didn’t tell her I was coming, of course. When she finds out, she’ll cry all over her fairy cakes. Puts me in mind of the walrus weeping over the oysters just before he devoured them. Now to your question: ‘Why would I cut off one hand?’ First of all, which hand was it?”

“The left.”

“I was thinking, at first, of rigor mortis. That perhaps she was holding something and he couldn’t prize the fingers loose. But, then, I gave that up because it would take rigor a while to set in, wouldn’t it? And I imagine the murderer would simply have taken it from her. So that doesn’t work—”

“On the contrary. There’s a thing called cadaveric spasm. Instant rigor. It’s not usual, but it has happened at the moment of death, if the death is violent and there’s intense emotion. I remember hearing of cases in the war: men still with their rifles aimed. There was one they called the ‘tea party’—soldiers in a trench, all caught when the shell exploded, all frozen in the last act of their lives. One had a canteen raised to his lips. There’d be no way of knowing after the real rigor progressed.

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