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.

Wed. Words: Pre-Christmas in Harrod's.

 

 A legendary London store

It was a pre-Christmas shopping sale day at Harrod’s.  It might be hard to imagine, but the lifts were heavily packed with residents from with their presents. I noticed that English people murmur apologies, tourists do not. Elbows dug into my ribs, and I swore the entire population of London was in the lift with me.

Famous elevator from 1940s

I was hoping for some support from the doorman, but he was hiding somewhere.  I had saved 6 months’ salary to visit London during the Christmas season but regretted it now.  A flood of shoppers drove me along through the door and I stumbled the first five steps.  On the verge of making a face plant, I heard the Yank tourist mock me, gaining irritation in the English swarm. Then he laughed.

 

As I hit the sidewalk with a bloody nose crunch, I felt a hand pull me up and whisper to me. “Those Yanks. Wish someone would give them a comeuppance.”

With that I was on my feet, I grabbed the shoulder of the American tourist, flipped him around and wiped my bloody nose on his shirt. Then I dredged up and cut loose with every profane swear word I knew. Never being one who said more than a “damn” of “shite”, I had a vocabulary from memories of my brothers.

The swarm froze and then clapped.  We all moved on, but I kept pace with the bloody tourist. Well done, well done, they murmured. 

 The underlined and italicized words are from the infamous Wed. Words, started back a decade or so by a delightful blogger, Delores from Under the Porch Light.  She is no longer active in blogging, so the baton has been passed onto: River  and Elephant's Child. Please go and check them out! They were easy on us this week.