02 - Flight of Fancy Read Online Free Page B

very quiet, and instantaneously deadly. That rules out most poisons by
the way, even strychnine requires at least half-an-hour to kill someone.”
    “Clara’s last case involved
strychnine.” Tommy pointed out helpfully.
    “Yes, but not as a murder
weapon, in fact.” Clara added, “Anyway, all that aside I have to come to the
conclusion that whoever killed Goddard O’Harris was near him immediately before
his death and that leaves only two suspects.”
    “By Jove, she means me and Mrs
O’Harris.” The colonel laughed in astonishment.
    “Indeed I do colonel, but I am
inclined to rule you out as you were the first to run for the police which, I
admit, could have been a ploy, but you were also not present to move the body.
Also I do not see your motive, though of course you could easily have one I do
not know about, but then there is your keenness on retelling the story. Most
murderers would prefer not to discuss their crime, unless they are of an
unstable or insane persuasion, in case it draws attention to them.”
    The colonel let out another
rumbling laugh.
    “Dear me, this is good fun. I
am quite flattered to be considered a suspect, but feel it rather depressing
how quickly you ruled me out.”
    “Please colonel.” Mrs Rhone
begged piteously, “This is quite appalling.”
    “Miss Fitzgerald,” O’Harris
spoke up, “I take this to mean, excluding the colonel as you have, you believe
my aunt killed Uncle Goddard?”
    Clara hesitated again, the
dashing captain looked hurt and not a little stunned, she was starting to
realise that he had genuinely been fond of his aunt.
    “I know nothing for certain.”
Clara insisted, “I just mean that, were we to take this as a theoretical
exercise, the most likely candidate for the crime, both because she had the
means and the opportunity to kill Goddard, along with being the only person
present to be able to move the body while the colonel was fetching help, was
Florence O’Harris.”
    “Oh no!” Mrs Rhone gasped, “Oh,
but it could be, oh…”
    “And what of motive?” O’Harris
asked rather sharply.
    “That I do not know, except
that wives often wish to kill their husbands and vice versa, the majority of us
simply do not act upon the urge.”
    “Oh Miss Fitzgerald, what an
awful thing to say, I have never wished to kill my husband!” Cried Mrs Rhone.
    Clara turned to her seriously.
    “Really Mrs Rhone? Not even
just once without really meaning it, but just thinking it in anger?”
    “Well…” Mrs Rhone glanced over
to her husband the vicar who was sound asleep in a chair, “I suppose once, yes,
when he sprayed weed-killer instead of insecticide on my prize begonias and
ruined them all. It was just a week before the village garden show. I could
have killed him, oh yes, my dear, I do see what you mean. We all say it don’t
we? Just mostly we don’t mean it.”
    “Exactly.” Clara said.
    “And then there was the time he
invited that obnoxious Mrs Vine to tea because she wanted to discuss the jumble
sale with me and I had already told him I wanted nothing to do with it after
the way I was treated the year before and then I ended up agreeing to it anyway
over scones with Mrs Vine.” Mrs Rhone was enjoying herself now, “And the time
he wore the new gloves I had knitted for him specially to help dig some sheep
out of the snow at a neighbouring farm and they came home ruined, and he knows
how I hate knitting.”
    “I think we get the impression,
dear lady.” Colonel Brandt cast a worried look at the woman, “Quite remarkable
the good reverend is still alive.”
    “This is all nonsense.” Captain
O’Harris snapped abruptly and left the party to stalk over to a window and gaze
out furiously at the evening sky.
    Clara groaned inwardly. She had
dreaded as much, it seemed a crime was not always best solved, especially one
so distant and personal to her host.
    “Do you think Florence moved
the body herself?” Colonel Brandt was oblivious to the fury