Quick, Amanda - Slightly Shady.txt Read Online Free

unfortunate. The sight of the ruined sentence irritated him. He took pride in the wit and cleverness of his notes. He had worked hard to tailor each message to the appropriate recipient. He could have been a famous writer, another Byron perhaps, had circurnstances not obliged him to support himself in the hells. Old rage shot through him. Everything would have been so much easier if life had not been so damnably unfair. If his father had not got himself killed in a duel over a disputed hand of cards; if his desperate and despairing mother had not died of the fever when he was but sixteen; who knew what he might have achieved? Who knew how high he could have risen had he been given even some of the advantages other men possessed? Instead, he was reduced to blackmail and extortion. But someday he would finally reach the position that should have been his, he vowed. Someday ... The knock sounded again. One of his creditors, no doubt. He had left his vouchers in every hell in town. He crumpled the letter in his fist and stood abruptly. Crossing the room to the window, he eased aside the curtain and peered out. There was no one. Whoever had knocked a moment ago had abandoned the attempt to make him respond. But there appeared to be a parcel on the step. He opened the door and stooped to pick up the package. He caught only a glimpse of the hem of a heavy greatcoat when the figure moved out of the shadows. The poker struck the back of his head with killing force. For Holton Felix, the world ended in an instant, canceling all of his outstanding debts. The stench of death was unmistakable. Lavinia caught her breath on the threshold of the firelit room and hastily fumbled in her reticule for a hankie. This was the one possibility for which she had made no allowance in her plans tonight. She placed the embroidered square of linen over her nose and fought the urge to turn and flee. Holton Felix's body lay sprawled on the floor in front of the hearth. At first she could see no sign of injury. She wondered if his heart had failed him. Then she realized there was something dreadfully wrong with the shape of his skull. Evidently one of Felix's other blackmail victims had arrived before her. Felix had not been a particularly clever scoundrel, she reminded herself. After all, she had managed to determine his identity shortly after receiving the first extortion note from him, and she was quite new and inexperienced at this business of making private inquiries. Once she had learned his address, she had talked to some of the maids and cooks who worked in the neighborhood. Satisfied that Felix had a nightly habit of taking himself off to the gaming hells, she had come here tonight intending to search his lodgings. She had hoped to find the diary he claimed to be quoting in his notes. She surveyed the small room, uncertainty twisting her stomach. The fire still burned cheerily on the hearth, but she could feel icy perspiration trickling down her spine. Now what was she to do? Had the killer been satisfied with Felix's death, or had he taken the time to go through the villain's possessions to discover the diary? There was only one way to learn the answers to those questions, she thought. She must carry on with her original scheme to search Felix's rooms. She forced herself to move. It took an effort of will to push through the invisible wall of dread that curtained the hellish scene. The flickering light of the dying flames cast ghastly shadows on the walls. She tried not to look at the body. Breathing as shallowly as possible, she considered where to start her search. Felix had furnished his lodgings in a simple manner. Given his fondness for the hells, that came as no great surprise. He had no doubt been obliged to sell the occasional candlestick or table to cover his debts. The servants she had questioned had assured her that Felix was rumored to be forever short of the ready One or two had implied he was an unscrupulous opportunist who would