6 Grounds for Murder Read Online Free

Chubb.
    Now he sat on the edge of his seat, looking as if he were ready to spring in the air like a disturbed frog if someone upset him.
    The colonel glanced down at him as if surprised to find him there. “Oh, sorry, old chap. Didn’t mean to offend, what? What?”
    “Who’s offending whom?” a bored voice asked from the doorway.
    Cecily turned to see a tall, bulky man enter the room. His dark bushy beard was neatly trimmed, his mustache carefully waxed, and his full lips nestled in the center like ripe berries in a furry paw.
    Ellsworth Galloway always made an entrance, and he did so now, striking a majestic pose with one hand over his heart while he surveyed the rest of the occupants in the room.
    Colonel Fortescue viewed the opera singer with distaste.“Don’t think that should concern you, old chap,” he said pompously. “We happened to be talking about the murder of that gypsy girl.”
    “Oh, is that all.” Ellsworth turned to Cecily and gave her a slight bow of his head. “For a moment I thought I might have interrupted something interesting.”
    “You don’t find a murder interesting, Mr. Galloway?” Cecily asked, raising an eyebrow. “After all, it isn’t every day one hears of such a gruesome death. One does have to wonder why the murderer went to all that trouble to chop off the head and apparently hide it elsewhere, while leaving the rest of the body in full view for anyone to find.”
    “Er … do we really have to discuss this subject?” Cyril Plunkett said, fidgeting with his glasses. Tiny beads of sweat stood out on the bald patch above his forehead. “I do find it all rather disgusting, you know.”
    “Disgusting?” Ellsworth’s laugh rumbled through the room. “My dear chap, as far as I am concerned, that’s one less savage we have to worry about. Probably deserved to have her head chopped off, that’s what I say. I’d like to see every last one of them wiped off the face of this earth.”
    “She was a human being, sir,” Cecily protested. “No human being deserves that kind of treatment.”
    “Well, dashed if I could lose too much sleep over the little beggar,” the colonel said, patting his pockets as if looking for something. “Never did like those blasted heathens running around in the woods. Spoils the atmosphere, old bean. Can’t have a decent walk in the woods anymore without tripping over one of the bastards.”
    “I say,” Cyril muttered, casting an anxious look at Cecily. “Ladies present and all that, you know.”
    “Well, I should think so.” Lady Belleville placed her fingers on her shoulder. “Come, darlings, we shall go for a little walk. All this talk of heathens running around thewoods is quite upsetting. Not at all what we want to hear, is it, my lovelies?”
    Cyril’s jaw dropped as he watched the dowager gently lift her empty fingers close to her face. The lace collar that bound her throat ended in a ruffle beneath her chin, and the soft fabric fluttered as she twittered chirping noises at an imaginary bird.
    As if aware of his stare, Lady Belleville transferred her gaze to Cyril. “Thank you, so much, Mr. Plunkett, for coming to our rescue. Such a true gentleman, indeed.” She swept toward him, and Cyril jerked back in his chair as if he’d been stung by a nettle.
    “Not that I like gypsies,” Lady Belleville said, leaning precariously over him to expose her bosom. “They kill the birds and eat them, you know. Perhaps that’s what happened to that gypsy girl’s head.”
    Cecily winced as she watched Cyril visibly pale.
    He swallowed several times, then said faintly, “I … er … don’t think so.”
    “Well, whatever. As long as they don’t touch my birds, I don’t suppose it matters.” Lady Belleville crossed the room to stand in front of Cecily. “I don’t think I shall stay for afternoon tea,” she said, fixing her strange, intent stare on Cecily’s face. “I don’t care for the conversation.”
    “I’m sorry, Lady