it steadily while removing all the pots and pans from under the sink, dumping out the wastepaper basket, and struggling mightily to open the back door, which I’d been careful to lock. I had to have my breakfast orange juice, outrageously expensive though it is in England, and I’d poured him a glass too. Every time he wandered near the table I held it out and he took a sip before toddling off again.
Breakfast accomplished, I’d started washing the dishes when the phone gave its double ring. I went into the sitting room to answer it, calling to Archie to follow me. He came in and set to work pulling the books off my wall of shelves.
Fiona Bennett was on the phone. “I wondered how you’re coping with this awful Peter-thing. Nobody can believe he could commit a violent act of any kind!”
“Of course he couldn’t,” I answered. “I’m doing my bit right now by taking Archie off Emily’s hands. I was going to call you later, to see if John knows anything more since last night. He was the only one at the station who’d tell us a thing.”
“You know about the phone calls, of course? That’s the worst of it. No, he went off this morning without telling me any more. It’s not his case, of course, so I shan’t be able to pump him as I did about our local murder.”
Suddenly I noticed Archie had decamped, leaving a pile of books behind.
“Listen, will you ask him what they learned from the autopsy—I mean, postmortem?” I said quickly.
“Oh, I know what autopsy means. I’ve heard the results of any number of them on the American police shows. I was a tremendous fan of one a few years ago, about this police surgeon who solved all the murders instead of the detectives—I can’t recall the name. Of course, I’ll ask him. What are you looking for?”
“There’s just a possibility Stone could have committed suicide, so I want to know if there was any evidence of his facing death soon, you know, cancer or something.”
“Suicide? Oh, surely not, John says the angle of the knife was downward, so it must have been someone standing over him. I can’t imagine killing oneself by lifting a knife above one’s head and bringing it down into one’s chest. It would be quite a dramatic sight, but unlikely, wouldn’t you think?”
“I guess so.” I sighed. “Sorry, I’ve got to run and see what Archie’s doing. It’s awfully quiet in the kitchen.”
“Oh, dear. Well, perhaps I’ll look in later. I’m off to A Bit of Old England now.” That was her antique shop in the touristy village of Broadway.
Archie had climbed up my kitchen step stool onto the countertop, where he stood investigating the previously unknown wonders of the wall cabinets. I was beginning to realize that climbing was currently his favorite activity. I managed to lift him down without any dishes getting broken, and whirled him round a couple of times to turn his indignant howls into laughter. Then we went upstairs so I could put on slacks and a sweater and get us both into shoes. The rain had stopped during the night and the sun was showing itself intermittently. I planned a nice long walk, staying on pavement until the ground and foliage dried.
Archie refused to ride in a stroller anymore, so I had to suit my pace to his short legs and his need to keep stopping to pursue his investigations. Emily and I agreed he was just like the Elephant’s Child in Just So Stories , full of “’satiable curiosity,” which he had to satisfy, “with the world so new and all.” The countryside was a treasury of strange and nameless things. “Dat?” he kept demanding, solemnly repeating each word I supplied, committing it to memory so, I knew from experience, he would be able to repeat it immediately the next time he saw the thing.
I turned us left up the main road and we mosied along the grassy shoulder, taking about a quarter of an hour to cover the hundred yards or so to Church Lane. There we hung another left and proceeded between high
Breakfast accomplished, I’d started washing the dishes when the phone gave its double ring. I went into the sitting room to answer it, calling to Archie to follow me. He came in and set to work pulling the books off my wall of shelves.
Fiona Bennett was on the phone. “I wondered how you’re coping with this awful Peter-thing. Nobody can believe he could commit a violent act of any kind!”
“Of course he couldn’t,” I answered. “I’m doing my bit right now by taking Archie off Emily’s hands. I was going to call you later, to see if John knows anything more since last night. He was the only one at the station who’d tell us a thing.”
“You know about the phone calls, of course? That’s the worst of it. No, he went off this morning without telling me any more. It’s not his case, of course, so I shan’t be able to pump him as I did about our local murder.”
Suddenly I noticed Archie had decamped, leaving a pile of books behind.
“Listen, will you ask him what they learned from the autopsy—I mean, postmortem?” I said quickly.
“Oh, I know what autopsy means. I’ve heard the results of any number of them on the American police shows. I was a tremendous fan of one a few years ago, about this police surgeon who solved all the murders instead of the detectives—I can’t recall the name. Of course, I’ll ask him. What are you looking for?”
“There’s just a possibility Stone could have committed suicide, so I want to know if there was any evidence of his facing death soon, you know, cancer or something.”
“Suicide? Oh, surely not, John says the angle of the knife was downward, so it must have been someone standing over him. I can’t imagine killing oneself by lifting a knife above one’s head and bringing it down into one’s chest. It would be quite a dramatic sight, but unlikely, wouldn’t you think?”
“I guess so.” I sighed. “Sorry, I’ve got to run and see what Archie’s doing. It’s awfully quiet in the kitchen.”
“Oh, dear. Well, perhaps I’ll look in later. I’m off to A Bit of Old England now.” That was her antique shop in the touristy village of Broadway.
Archie had climbed up my kitchen step stool onto the countertop, where he stood investigating the previously unknown wonders of the wall cabinets. I was beginning to realize that climbing was currently his favorite activity. I managed to lift him down without any dishes getting broken, and whirled him round a couple of times to turn his indignant howls into laughter. Then we went upstairs so I could put on slacks and a sweater and get us both into shoes. The rain had stopped during the night and the sun was showing itself intermittently. I planned a nice long walk, staying on pavement until the ground and foliage dried.
Archie refused to ride in a stroller anymore, so I had to suit my pace to his short legs and his need to keep stopping to pursue his investigations. Emily and I agreed he was just like the Elephant’s Child in Just So Stories , full of “’satiable curiosity,” which he had to satisfy, “with the world so new and all.” The countryside was a treasury of strange and nameless things. “Dat?” he kept demanding, solemnly repeating each word I supplied, committing it to memory so, I knew from experience, he would be able to repeat it immediately the next time he saw the thing.
I turned us left up the main road and we mosied along the grassy shoulder, taking about a quarter of an hour to cover the hundred yards or so to Church Lane. There we hung another left and proceeded between high
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