" Instead, she continued: "But I can't say I'm
really very sorry he's dead, Colonel."
"Outside of maybe his wife, and the gunsmith who made his fake Walker
Colts and North & Cheney flintlocks, who is?" he countered. "Oh, yes;
Cecil Gillis. He's about due for induction into the Army of the
Unemployed, unless Mrs. Rivers intends carrying on the business."
Karen's eyes widened. "Cecil Gillis!" she exclaimed softly. "I wonder,
now, if he has an alibi for last night!"
"Think he might need one?" Rand asked. "Of course I only saw him once,
but he didn't strike me as a possible candidate. I can't seem to see
young Gillis doing a messy job like this was, or going to all that manual
labor when he could have used something neat, like a pistol or a dagger."
"Well, Cecil isn't quite the languishing flower he looks," Karen told
him. "He does a lot of swimming, and he's one of the few people around
here who can beat me at tennis. And he has a motive. Maybe two motives."
"Such as?" Rand prompted.
"Maybe you think Cecil is a--you know--one of those boys," she
euphemized. "Well, he isn't. He takes a perfectly normal, and even
slightly wolfish, interest in the female of his species. And while Arnold
Rivers may have been a good provider from a financial standpoint, he
wasn't quite up to his wife's requirements in another important respect.
Pages:
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157