Story A Day--- Cross and Martin, part 28--- "Intent", 536 words.....

Intent

The worn expression that Miss Mary carried with her spoke of her own sleepless night. Though, I am sure her sleepless evening had nothing to do with waiting for an answer to a note that was sent out.

Cross came to sit at the very edge of my sofa, as close as possible to our visitor. “Miss Adell,” he began, a softness in his voice that I had never heard before. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.” A sincere and apologetic smile did enough, in my opinion, to convince Miss Mary that he had no ill intentions where she was concerned.

“As you say, Mr. Cross, it was short notice. But, how could I truly stay away when I received your note.” She pulled a folded bit of paper from the inside of her left glove. “I had to know what it was you wished to share with me and what this—how did you phrase it—important information regarding your safety, life and freedom.” She pushed the note back into the lining of her glove. “Such ominous words must surely be meant to attract attention and you most assuredly got mine.”

Cross leaned forward, placing his face squarely in line with Miss Adell’s. The smile dissolved and a stern expression of analyzing concentration swept his frame. “Tell me, Miss Adell, do you know what it was that killed your first fiancé, Corbet Adams?”

There was little change in Miss Mary Adell, so little in fact, that I wondered what Cross might be able to make of her. I, for my part, saw nothing. Her expression wasn’t cold, it wasn’t sympathetic, it most certainly wasn’t distraught. It was nothing, not even surprise at Cross’s question.

“I believe at first the death had been ruled suicide by gunshot, but, that ruling was quickly overturned by your own insistence that he had met his death by other means,” the only change in Miss Mary’s expression was the opening and closing of her mouth as she spoke, the lack of change was quickly became disturbing. “African Milk Plant, wasn’t it?”

Cross nodded, “The coroner even found a piece of the plant in Adams’s pocket.” I could see that Cross was holding his breath as he watched Miss Adell. “I wonder, who would go to such trouble to murder someone with the intention of having it look like a suicide—who was careful enough in all other details—but, who intentionally or unintentionally left a piece of the murderous plant to be discovered in the pocket of the victim?”

“Surely, no one.” I blurted, before I realized what I’d said.

Cross clicked his tongue, a quick smile flying to his lips and then disappearing just as quickly. And, for the first time since her arrival, a change came over Miss Mary. Her breathing, which had been so focused and calm, was now shallow and quick.

“Ah,” a blinding realization came from Cross’s question. “The piece of poisonous plant was deliberately tucked into Adams’s pocket. Someone wanted it to be known that his death was no suicide.”

“Exactly,” Cross focused his attention back on Miss Adell. “Someone wanted it to be known that he had, in fact, been murdered.”

A to Z reflections....

Another A to Z challenge comes to an end--- another collection of posts and poetry have been written, another deep breath of relief is released. For my fellow bloggers that survived as well, it's another 'challenge-completed' notch carved into the writing desk. I've come to enjoy my yearly foray into the world of all things alphabetical. This was my third year, though it was only the second year I had a workable theme (which made the challenge substantially easier than the first year I attempted this challenge.) And, though my first year was difficult because my focus was so scattered, I found this year was more difficult because I lost the enthusiasm that came with the first year excitement----excitement which helped me plug along until the end of the challenge. Year 3 was a success in the sense that I completed the challenge, though, this was the year that almost wasn't---- Somewhere about a third of the way through the challenge, I seriously considered...

B is for Banshee.....

Irish bean sidhe and Scottish Gaelic bean sith , literally, woman of fairyland. The mythology and legend surrounding the Banshee is a bit mixed. The most readily accepted story is of a hag-like creature wailing the impending death of someone nearby-- most ancient Gaelic families, especially the more well-to-do families, had their own Banshees that attached themselves to the lineage of the family name. I suppose it was a sign of station for a family to be able to claim their own Banshee--- I mean, who needs an exciting/ tongue-wagging-inciting skeleton in your cupboard when you've got a Banshee wailing in your rafters? The origins of the more familiar Banshee may have stemmed from the ancient Keeners-- women who were employed to sing a lament at a funeral. The best Keeners were in high demand to "wail" and "weep" for the great personage who had fallen. The Great families would boast a bean sidhe or bean sith-- a fairy-woman Keener--and having foresig...

A-Z Reflections, year 4....

A-Z blogging challenge for 2014 has come and gone, seemingly without my realizing it. And, though I fell behind once or twice toward the end, I finished this year's challenge right on time. Really, I can't believe it's already over. I feel like I just finished my post for letter A... Year 4, for this blogger, was a far cry from the tortured state of despondency that was most of Year 3 -- I'll not mention the irony of this year's focus on death being easier to blog about than last year's foray into supernatural creatures, we'll leave that for my therapy sessions *ahem* As always, A-Z brought with it, not only 26 days of unbridled and far-reaching knowledge (disguised as entertaining and thought-provoking blog-posts), but a chance to connect with new faces while reconnecting with familiar faces--who had perhaps drifted away--from A-Z's past. I am always amazed by the ingenuity and inspiration that comes from lumping a couple thousand folk...

From the Inkwell, From the Vein.....

Search This Blog