Murder from the Shadows

 

Tom Conway, Brother of George Sanders

 While James appeared to be non-chalant to the point of being flippant at this sad funeral, his insides churned with the anxiety that consumed him.  No one would have ferreted out the source of his distress except Emilia, precious Emilia.

And she lay in the coffin.  Emilia.  How James had loved her.  She held the essence of beauty even now, cold in death. 

Just days before, when truth had come speeding through her understanding, Emilia had faced him.  “It was you!  You poisoned me over time, with mercury.  Why?  Why?”

James stepped out from shadowed staircase.  

”Simple, my love.  You are the only one who truly understood me.  Others labeled me ‘arrogant’, but you knew, you knew…”  

 

 Rachel Roberts, one of Hitchcock's favorite actresses

 

With a final gasp, Emilia crumbled to the floor. 

What was James' secret?  Why did he poison

Emilia?  What.....

 This a re-post, 2014, Wed. Words.

Taking care of Lord and Lady

 

Matilda wrung the dust cloth and sighed.  “Get to work, girl,” she mumbled to no one, since the house rang with emptiness. 

Source: arnowartcom.fatcow.com

Starting in the kitchen, Matilda reached behind the dry goods, retrieving the boxes of rat poison and bottles of potassium chloride.  “No one needs these anymore!” she exclaimed cheerfully.

She moved on to the bathrooms used by the late Lady and Lord Davis, taking the arsenic bottles, and putting the real medicine  in their places.  “Poor souls! To be so ill at the late blossoms of life!” Lady Davis had passed to her eternal reward only a year or so ago.  There had been little mourning and much giggling at church during music and prayers for the late Lady Davis

Now again a year later, at the Presbyterian Church next day, the township were dressed in black, touching their eyes now and then with hankies.  Matilda sat in her customary place in back.  The Right Reverend Lancaster, retired, gave a very very brief sermon, and then praised loyal parishioners  for honoring his late lordship, Lord Davis. “Now, we shall attend the church potluck, after attending to His Lordship’s request to be cremated.”

Outside, a roaring bonfire awaited pall bearers to throw the pine box into the flames.  As the fire leaped at the additional fuel, the cheers lifted as if one. “Take that, ye old *@$%^....”

Matilda smiled demurely as she was thanked over and over for her service.  Murder is a pleasure when one has lived a life of servitude to the Lord and His Ladyship

This is a re-post from August 8, 2013.  It was at my "How do I do this?" Not knowing the proper way to reference and honor anyone, I will do it now.  The words are from Delores, who started the Wednesday Words way back when.  Delores wanted bloggers to break from their WIP and get a fresh look after writing something unusual. Unfortunately, I didn't indicate the word in any way, but oh well, what can I say?
  
However, in my young blogging, days, I did not underline, bold, or italicize the words for readers to identify. Just look for strange words that are worked into sentences that seem a little odd.

Thanks.

Why? WHY?

 

Brother of George Sanders

 While James appeared to be non-chalant to the point of being flippant at this sad funeral, his insides churned with the anxiety that consumed him.  No one would have ferreted out the source of his distress except Emilia, precious Emilia.

And she lay in the coffin.  Emilia.  How James had loved her.  She held the essence of beauty even now, cold in death. 

Just days before, when truth had come speeding through her understanding, Emilia had faced him.  “It was you!  You poisoned me over time, with mercury.  Why?  Why?”

James stepped out from shadowed staircase.  

Rachel Roberts 1927-1980 She is best remembered for her screen performances as the older mistress of the central male character.

”Simple, my love.  You are the only one who truly understood me.  Others labeled me ‘arrogant’, but you knew, you knew…”  

With a final gasp, Emilia crumbled to the floor. 

What was James' secret?  Why did he poison

Emilia?  What.....

 This a re-post, 2014, Wed. Words.

The Falcon

 

While James appeared to be non-chalant to the point of being flippant at this sad funeral, his insides churned with the anxiety that consumed him.  No one would have ferreted out the source of his distress except Emilia, precious Emilia.

And she lay in the coffin.  Emilia.  How James had loved her.  She held the essence of beauty even now, cold in death. 

Just days before, when truth had come speeding through her understanding, Emilia had faced him.  “It was you!  You poisoned me over time, with mercury.  Why?  Why?”

James stepped out from shadowed staircase.  

”Simple, my love.  You are the only one who truly understood me.  Others labeled me ‘arrogant’, but you knew, you knew…”  

With a final gasp, Emilia crumbled to the floor. 

What was James' secret?  Why did he poison

                                            Emilia?  What.....

This is a repost from June 2014, with underlined Wednesday Words. The words come from Elephant's Child:

fates, warning, armored, saint, dynasty; wolfheart, serenity, dream, theater, voyager Go there, read what some have written, and then your own creation.

I am still disabled by a nasty surgery on my left hand.  I won't be responding to any comments, but go ahead and post something. It will make me happy. And God knows some good feelings.

Tom Conway was a film noir film star, playing detectives.  He is James.

I can't respond to comments .  I am in a world of pain.

Through the Gates of Peace

Found in Louisiana, Missouri
well maintained with complete records

When the sun rose that day, the body of a badly beaten man lay sprawled on the banks of the Mississippi near the small town of Rinfield**, Missouri.  Although the only thing of value that remained was his suit and any thing known was that his face had been battered beyond recognition. Every Rinfield resident knew this man and liked him.

Since the site was by the barge landing, most assumed that some rough men crept in and took Levi, expecting a great fortune. That was enough effort given for finding the guilty.

Levi Rosenfeld (this name was chosen randomly and does not relate to anyone, living or dead in this post)  was an upstanding member of the community, dedicated to helping others, and supporting and caring for any who needed help.  “A good man, God Bless ‘em!”

Levi Rosenfeld was a Jewish man in a small Christian town, and presumed to be wealthy, since he was a jeweler who traveled the Mississippi to St. Louis to trade.  His wife, Grace, was the opposite of her Levi; she was vicious and flaunted her own wealth.  When people spoke her name, they crossed themselves.

The rest of the Jewish community continued quietly to work, pay bills, worship in a distant synagogue some sixty miles away.  That they were Jewish was known by all and accepted.  “Stay in their own place, I’ll give ‘em that."

Levi Rosenfeld was buried in a Jewish Cemetery some distance from town, in a partially hidden copse of oak trees.

It was a quiet closing for a good man.

Is this a true story?  Yes.

Great-aunt Ruth's locket, given to her by her father,

the jeweler.

We have driven by that cemetery for decades, until it became just part of the scenery. It was only as a kinda senior citizen adult that I decided to learn more about it. My mother told me what she had learned from my grandmother. 

Truth is that Ruth's mother, Grace, was a mean spirited woman.

**Imaginary town

Murder! Murder! Morte! Morte!

Source

Switzerland is famous for its incredible awe-inspiring beauty, and rightly so.  When I viewed my first mountain with its cap of white snow, I almost reached out to see if it was a painting or real. 

The people of Switzerland are polite and well-educated, and the unemployment rate is near to nothing.  And most have a dog or two, which are also polite and well-trained.  The canine walk on leash, silent, and discreet in relieving needs, which the owner promptly removes with a Swiss provided bag and disposal sites along the sidewalks.

Scrumpy and Porter (these are types of English beers)

My daughter Mary and husband Richard have two dogs, Porter and Scrumpy.  Porter has a stoic dignity about him; he will keep feet warm, let my grandson climb over him, and considers himself to be superior to his fellow dog, Scrumpy.

Benjamin (almost 2?) hanging out with Scrumpy

Scrumpy is a fun-loving and likable mutt, with mixed terrier tendencies and low on the intelligence scale.  If there is to be something destroyed in the house, Scrumpy is guilty while Porter shakes his head. Scrumpy..Scrumpy.

Porter, the ever-patient-Porter

The Swiss also have professional dog-sitters: people who are prepared with all the needs a dog might have.  Mary and Richard have left Porter and Scrumpy with a lovely lady on many trips, where dogs are happy.

This last two week holiday had an unusual twist in the regular day's activities.  Life for Porter and Scrumpy had been proceeding just fine, until this one afternoon.

How to Care for Your Tortoise

The lady had two sizable pet tortoises which also occupied the dog yard, and enjoyed a platonic, complacent relationship with all the other dogs. And Porter and Scrumpy had stayed there several times.

So it was a big surprise to all when Scrumpy raced toward one, and scooped him up.  He shook Bernard side to side to side.  Then Scrumpy threw him in the air, where Bernard turned end on end, landing with a thump on his back.

Scrumpy moved in for the kill—he somehow knew what to do.  With his front paws, Scrumpy disemboweled Bernard.

Porter had been laying under the shade of a tree, observing his impulsive friend do all this, gave one bark, which said it all:  Damn it, Scrumpy, you idiot!  Scrumpy happily jogged over to Porter, a jaunty wag of his tail singing his victory.

The owner lady came screaming and cursing.  How it all ended, I don’t know. Mary and Richard are rather silent on this, while Benjamin still loves to chase Scrumpy around the house.

But I do know this: Scrumpy and Porter will no longer be welcome at her house.

This is a re-post from 2015 or 2014. Benjamin is now 6 and has a brother James, aged 2.  Scrumpy is less spry, not as feisty. Porter is as Porter has always been.

With Christmas coming, I will be putting up some old posts.  New ones will appear in the New Year.

Disappointment is a Harsh Burden

Disappointment is a harsh burden, especially when there was great expectation.  Any fan of mysteries can understand this sentiment.

I remember the Agatha Christie books and how my white-haired grandmother would devour them.  Devour them!  Then those books came to me, and I became a Christie fan.

Source

In 1985 or so, BBC released the Agatha Christie Mysteries starring Joan Hickson.  She was an amazing Miss Marple, perfect to the letter.  The excellent filming, settings that screamed “England!  Right here!”, as well as the accuracy of clothing and times presented all the engaging drama one has come to expect from BBC mysteries.

source

Let’s leave Dame Margaret Rutherford out of this, shall we.

Today’s American murder/drama/police dramas have gone down a dark, predictable road.  My heart is broken.

It is a dead give-away who did what the moment actors start appearing.  Excluding the usual main characters, the “bad guy” will be the once-off actor who is the most famous and gets paid the most.

And the plot?  The instigating event occurs by the 14^th minute.  The searching for clues lasts until the 47^th minute.  The big “Ah HA!” hits around the 52^nd minute, with winding down (through commercials) until the 58^th minute.  Then there are ads and previews of the next episode.

Disappointment, indeed.  Agatha Christie would have wept.

Source