The Octopus Murders by Jennet Clyde

Author:Jennet Clyde [Clyde, Jennet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

I didn’t go straight home. I went to Victoria’s house instead. No matter what I often thought of her, she was a rock, and I needed a rock to cling to right now.

I loved Victoria’s little cottage. It was surrounded by a magnificent garden, where she sat writing in summer, ensconced in her little summer house. The house was full of little nooks and crannies where she crammed books and manuscripts. It seemed the ideal setting for a writer. Her study was undoubtedly my favourite room. The bookcases were stacked with books. There was even a grand piano in the corner. I followed the path up to the French windows. The light was on inside, and I guessed she’d be in there working. I stood outside for the moment, watching her shadow through the warm glow of the floral curtains, drawn shut against the chilly November night, savouring a thousand memories of happy times here.

“You should really lock these doors. Anyone could walk in,” I said, letting myself in. She was there, typing away on her laptop,

“I do hate a locked door,” she said dismissively. “Anyway, how nice to see you, Mirren. I was just about to stop for tea… or perhaps something stronger.”

“Elsa’s back,” I said, perching on the seat beside her.

She kept typing for a moment. “I know. She phoned me, ridiculous woman. There’s a murder and nothing’s happening to her, so she makes things happen.”

“Didn’t she tell you why she went?”

She glanced at me, her fingers resting for a second on the keys. “Patrick? I don’t believe that story for a second.” She continued typing. She was an unbelievably fast typer, much faster than my pedestrian efforts. “For Elsa to suggest that Patrick Myer was so overcome with thwarted passion for her he strangled poor Vee in retaliation is as ridiculous as one of her plots. Why, he never as much looked interested in her. If he was going to have a fit of passion for anybody I would have thought it would be…”

I waited expectantly for my name to be mentioned.

“Billie,” she said.

“Billie?” And yet, why should I have been so surprised? Hadn’t I thought so once myself?

“Of course, Billie. There was so much soul in both their writings, didn’t you feel it? I thought they were on the same plane. I pushed it a little, I admit. I thought a love affair might help Billie. Her writing, and looking after her sister, was all she had. Anyway, it didn’t work out. I did wonder why not. Maybe it was the wrong time. I was sorry about that… I’m not sorry now, though.”

“You still believe he’s guilty then? But you said about Elsa…”

“I don’t believe a word Elsa says, on principle. But… there’s too much evidence stacked against him, I’m afraid. I’m a great one for the logical explanation. No matter how much I don’t want to believe it. Come along,” she said, standing up. “Let’s have a gin.”

“I’m driving. I’ll have tea.”

“Ugh, tea then.”

I always loved how Victoria served tea.

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