A Nice Derangement of Epitaphs (Inspector George Felse Mystery)
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When the tomb of Jan Treverra is opened to reveal two recently dead bodies, neither of which is Treverra's, Detective Inspector George Felse, on holiday nearby, steps in to investigate the murders. Reprint.
Rachel.” But he took good care not to say where. She watched him mount his bike with exaggerated solemnity, salute her gravely, and pedal away down the drive again in a caricature of penitence and self-examination. He wasn’t even ashamed of pulling her leg. Practically speaking, she wasn’t in the act at all, she was just a miscalculation on his mother’s part. And now, since that was the way his mother wanted it, now he would find Simon, if it took him all day. It didn’t take him all day, but
and into the water, Dominic after him. Paddy’s summer tan was only deep ivory compared with the tawny gold of Uncle Simon’s long, muscular back, and the fine, lean arms and legs that sliced through the water without a ripple. His hair was not more than a couple of shades darker. Once in the deep water he swam like a dolphin. With unaccustomed humility Dominic accepted his own lesser part, and forbore from following too far. A man who could move with so much confidence and certainty, off such a
of that? Smugglers might have hidden them somewhere there.” She could feel him suddenly planning, and checking, and contemplating a barrier he might have to get round before he could proceed. Moments of crisis boil up so abruptly out of nowhere. “Mummy!” The careful, gentle, tentative voice nerved itself, moving in on her. Here it comes, Phil, she thought, and whatever you do there mustn’t be any hesitation. “Mummy, you don’t mind if I go back there and take another look? With a torch, of
time, with the authentic yellow lustre of antique gold. He shut himself into the front passenger seat of the car, and held his head, because it felt as if it might burst if he worked the brain within it too hard. One little guinea in the sand of the tunnel, and a fistful of them in Morwenna’s coffin. And the door locked, and both keys in police custody, and the whole thing impossible, unless—it was the last thing he had overheard as he retreated—unless there was yet another key. Or another
to avoid Tamsin. Forgive me if I’m trampling rather crudely through things you’d prefer to keep well apart from this. But you asked me how I knew. You’ve kept carefully away from her for the last five days. But not—forgive me again!—not because you stopped wanting her. And then, when Paddy went missing, you were the one who said he’d turn up safe and sound. Knowing, of course, that he had nothing at all to fear from our supposed murderer-at-large. It was only later, when time wore on and he still