Murder at the Masquerade Ball by Margaret Addison

Author:Margaret Addison [Addison, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2019-10-20T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

‘Of course,’ said Cedric, a note of savagery in his voice, ‘as soon as I am able, I shall arrange for it to be pulled down.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Rose, sharing some of her husband’s natural revulsion for the premises.

Cedric had walked over to the window and stood gazing down at the gardener’s shed, of which only the top was clearly visible. Partially concealed from view, traces of the original gloom that had surrounded it earlier in darkness still lingered, giving it something of an ominous air.

It had been the scene of a violent death and, though the shed was mundane and innocuous in itself, Rose reflected that, for as long as it existed, it would forever be associated in their minds with Hilary Casters’ murder. Indeed, she feared that, even if the shed were raised to the ground as Cedric intended, each time they took a stroll in the garden their eyes would invariably stray to the fateful corner. They would be drawn to regard it, as if an invisible thread were directing their gaze. For them, it would always hold an awful fascination.

Despite the warmth of the morning, she shuddered. Meanwhile, still with his back to her, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his trousers, Cedric said, almost under his breath:

‘Who would do such a thing? That’s what I should like to know. There’s something particularly repulsive about it, don’t you think? That someone should be killed at our ball while all the other guests were dancing and having fun. I –’

‘Darling, don’t go over it,’ said Rose quickly. ‘It doesn’t do any good.’

Yet she knew, as she studied the figure standing defiantly by the window, that despite her words her husband would continue to torment himself with images of the frightful scene that had occurred on their property. Knowing his character as she did, she could have expected nothing less, and she liked him the better for it.

She had spoken hurriedly and it was only now that her mind turned to reflect on Cedric’s first sentence. Her eyes widened and she gasped with surprise. A little while earlier they had toyed with the idea that the thief might also be the murderer. At the time, she had believed that neither of them had given the theory much credence. For surely, she reasoned, the identity of the murderer was hardly in question. Not only had Lavinia and Hallam discovered Raymond Franklin stooped over the corpse in a most compromising position, but Iris Franklin’s damning words, coupled with her agitated state, had seemed to corroborate the generally held assumption that her husband was the murderer.

Rose took a deep breath before she put the question that hovered on her lips.

‘You believe Raymond Franklin is innocent?’ she said quietly, ‘Yet all the evidence suggests –’

‘Oh, I know how it looks,’ Cedric said, turning away from the window. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. ‘It looks pretty black for Franklin, all right.

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