One Murder For Money
Two Murders For Show, Three to Make Ready, Four Murders to Go
by
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I returned to the cocktail party and drifted about into this or that little pool of empty conversation. Time moved on, and we were all in those eternal shallows of mixing and mingling – chatting over our various drinks – when something stunning happened. Margo Henning appeared in the doorway clutching a bloody Italian stiletto in her right hand. There was fresh blood all over the front of her elegant white gown. Everyone turned in unison, and an absolute silence descended, as Margo wavered in the doorway and, holding up the bloody knife, said: "Someone put this in Aaron’s back. I think he’s dead." Then, she fell in a faint. Simon and General Wilson arrived first, the General lifting her with ease and putting her in a nearby chair, as Simon, handkerchief in hand, delicately abstracted the knife from her grasp. He glanced my way. "Thomas, get to the nearest phone and call Robert Campbell." Then he turned and addressed everyone in the room with his best professorial voice. It carried to the far walls. "Ladies and gentlemen, I think it would be best if you all took your drinks into the garden for a few moments. No one should leave. The authorities will be here shortly." Simon can, when necessity demands, give orders in a truly commanding voice. So, people did as they were instructed. A moment later, Margo Henning awoke to the gentle, hand-rubbing of General Wilson. She stared at the blood on her hands and down the front of her gown. "Oh dear," she said, examining her palms, "I feel just like Lady Macbeth – ‘out out damned spot.’" "Now, now," Simon said, "Everything will be all right." She smiled a sad little smile and shook her head. "Dear Simon, I’m afraid you’re wrong. I don’t think things are ever again going to be all right." With that, she folded her hands in her lap and stared off into some distant place – away from emotion and out of time. General Wilson, his duty done and gallantry tested, moved out of earshot and said to me: "Hah! Poor girl! But justice is justice!" With that he moved off, his stride almost triumphant.
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About the Book
Professor Simon Fraser, his young assistant Tom McElrath, and Lieutenant Robert Campbell of the Ben Nevis Homicide Division are back in action again. And that mighty seer and fortune-teller, the red-headed Millicent Zacharias, is taking a hand in matters as usual. This time around, the billionaire Aaron Henning is found dead in his study, stabbed three times with his own letter opener. Why that third timid puncture? Did one of the family perform the act? Or, perhaps, one of the members of the Ben Nevis Concert Board, some of whom had their fortunes wiped out by the financial raids of Aaron Henning? Someone left a warning card, delivered to Aaron’s desk earlier on and discovered by his third wife Margo: One murder for money "Does that mean four murders or ten?" Tom asks. "In either event," Simon says, "it is madness or folly. Why issue a warning at all?" The murders begin to pile up as predicted, though Simon swears they are of necessity rather than to fit the rhyme. Lieutenant Campbell, on the other hand, isn’t so sure. In the meantime, the elderly but still gorgeous Marigold Henning, Aaron’s mother, predicts a miracle for Tom and duly follows through. Gotterdammerung and Armageddon arrive in due course, providing enough blood and savagery all around.
Two murders for show.
Three to make ready.
Four murder to go.
About the Author
Once one has created a fictional world of murder and mayhem (the small city of Ben Nevis) and the characters, good and bad, to people it, one is loath to give them up and bid them a permanent farewell. For all of that, this is the sixth and final mystery work involving the irascible Simon Fraser and his young assistant, Tom McElrath. The tale-carrying cast members were created in The Borgia Blade, A Little Pinch of Death, The Seven Keys of Sara Seldon, The Detective, Club, A Ladder of Death and now reappear in One Murder for Money. Once established, they seem to have an affinity for gathering new friends of equivalent novelty and murderers of some ingenuity. This, I cannot explain. But there is a time when the tale is told, and it is necessary to move on to other things. This author has discovered other fish to fry.