The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

Catherine came to bring this back. I suppose she didn’t like it—or maybe she’d finished it—and then she just collapsed on to the hammock. But—where did you find the book?”
    “James Brewster had it.”
    “James—but how did he get it?”
    Peter then told her of his talk with James, adding at the end, “The only finger prints on the book were Catherine’s and James’s and some old ones, presumably yours.”
    “No wonder James behaved so strangely night before last. And, from what you say it does look as though he wanted to get rid of her, doesn’t it?”
    “Yes. But if he did, he couldn’t have done it at the moment he found her here.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m convinced that she was dead already when he got here.”
    “Yes—I suppose that is one of those unanswerable facts. But James Brewster could have been the murderer. Mrs. Williams supports me in this belief,” she added, with an attempt at laughter.
    “Well, I haven’t ruled him out either. He had motive, as you say, but he wasn’t alone in wanting to be rid of Catherine.”
    “No—I’ve been thinking of that, too. Everyone hated her it seems—” She thought of Margie and Roger. “Oh, Peter, I haven’t told you about Margie’s secret cache in the old greenhouse, but I suppose Thane Carey has. And I haven’t told you about meeting Roger in the woods.”
    “Carey did tell me about the junk in the greenhouse—we decided that it must be a private beauty parlour of Margie’s and that it had no bearing on the case. But what about Roger?”
    Fredericka told him the story of her Sunday afternoon’s adventure but without mentioning her accusation of which she was now a little ashamed. When she finished, Peter said thoughtfully: “I hope Philippine is right and that the next operation is successful. He needs a break and its high time he had one.”
    “But, Peter, what about his hating Catherine—I mean—?”
    “Oh, we can’t exclude him, of course.” He sighed heavily and got to his feet as though shaking off a great weight.
    “Well, I must be off. Storm’s let up.”
    “Oh dear, has it? That means more customers.” As she spoke the front door slammed again. “Curses,” she said.
    “And more of them,” Peter agreed. “I too have work—and have had all day yesterday, far into the night and practically nothing to show for it—” He broke off abruptly as James Brewster put his head around the door.
    “Am I intruding?” he asked.
    “Of course not,” Fredericka snapped. She found it difficult at all times to like this man, and now, after what Peter had just told her, and after a hard day and a hot one, he had to be the one to appear. Moreover he looked damnably clean and affable and quite unlike his usual bigger-than-thou bullying self.
    “Don’t forget the snuff box,” Peter muttered under cover of his departure. He nodded toward James and grinned. Fredericka frowned. It seemed a poor joke, and how could he go off so cheerfully and leave her alone with this great beast.
    James lowered his heavy body into the armchair that had earlier been warmed by the minister. “My dear Fredericka—if I may, please, call you by your Christian name.” He paused a little ponderously to await her answer.
    “Of course,” Fredericka answered without enthusiasm.
    “My dear Fredericka,” he repeated, “this all seems hard on you who have come so recently into our midst. Catherine was always careless, but I do confess I think she was particularly so to choose such a public place to die.”
    “Public?” Fredericka asked.
    “Well, dear Lucy always made her bookshop a sort of open house to all of us. I’m afraid we imposed on her more than we should have done. But she was tireless—tireless.”
    “So I’ve always heard,” Fredericka answered coldly, and then went on: “I’m afraid I’ve got to rearrange some stock. Was there anything special you wanted? I’ve got some good new fiction in the library.”
    “No. No. I keep up with the law journals which is about the extent of my reading except for an occasional thriller to give my brain a rest.”
    “Well, I have two or three new ones.”
    “No, Fredericka, not today.” Then, as she stood up, he said hurriedly: “Well, perhaps I will take one along before I go. You’re not trying to speed the parting guest, are you?”
    “I’m sorry if I was rude,” Fredericka answered wearily. She sat down again, but with such obvious reluctance that James got slowly to