The Twisted Root by Anne Perry

Author:Anne Perry
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective - General, Detective, England, Mystery & Detective, Latterly, Fiction - Mystery, Monk, General, Hester (Fictitious character), William (Fictitious character), Rathbone, Spanish: Adult Fiction, Fiction, Oliver (Fictitious character)
ISBN: 9788466308830
Publisher: SUMA DE LETRAS
Published: 2003-01-15T08:00:00+00:00

A lie was the only thing. “I’m sure they will,” she said without a shadow in her voice. “And I’ll get a message to her that you’re fine.”

“You do that, girl. An’ tell her I was asking after her.”

“I will.” Suddenly she found it difficult to master herself. It was ridiculous to want to cry now! Nothing had changed. She sniffed hard and blew her nose, then set out the rest of the things for tea and opened the bag of biscuits. She had bought him the best she could find. They looked pretty on the plate. She was determined this should be a party.

She did not broach the subject with Monk until after they had eaten. They were sitting quietly watching the last of the light fade beyond the windows and wondering if it was time to light the gas or if it would be pleasanter just to allow the dusk to fill the room.

Naturally, she had no intention whatever of even mentioning John Robb, let alone telling Monk that she was taking over his care from Cleo. Apart from the way he would react to such information, the knowledge would compromise him. There was no need for both of them to tell lies.

“What can we do to help Cleo Anderson?” she said, taking it for granted that there was no argument as to whether they would.

He lifted his head sharply.

She waited.

“Everything we’ve done so far has made it worse,” he said unhappily. “The best service we can do the poor woman is to leave the case alone.”

“If we do that she may well be hanged,” Hester argued. “And that would be very wrong. Treadwell was a blackmailer. She is guilty of a crime in law, maybe, but no sin. We have to do something. Humanity requires it.”

“I discover facts, Hester,” he said quietly. “Everything I’ve found so far indicates that Cleo killed him. I may sympathize with her—in fact, I do. God knows, in her situation I might have done the same.”

She could see memory of the past sharp in his face, and knew what he was thinking. She remembered Joscelin Grey also, and the apartment in Mecklenburgh Square, and how close Monk had come to murder then.

“But that would not excuse me in law,” he continued. “Nor would it alter anything the judge or jury could do. If she did kill him, there may be some mitigation, but she will have to say what it is. Then I could look for proof of it, if there is any.”

She was hesitant to ask him about Oliver Rathbone. There was too much emotion involved, old friendship, old love, and perhaps pain. She did not know how much. She had not seen Rathbone since her marriage, but she remembered— with a vividness so sharp she could see the candlelight in her mind’s eye and smell the warmth of the inn dining room—the night Rathbone had very nearly asked her to marry him. He had stopped only because she had allowed him to know, obliquely, that she could not accept, not yet.

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