Oh what a beautiful morning ... & Snippet

      And it truly is. The world is green, the sun is shining (briefly -- the prediction is for more rain this afternoon) and I woke up feeling somewhat more normal. It probably won't last, but it's nice while it's here.
      Before I forget, did you enter the May 2007 Giveaway yet? Win free stuff by entering the drawing by answering one question about Murder by Dewey Decimal, the novel I'm excerpting here. Read the complete rules on the Giveaway post and enter, why don't ya.
      Now, Holly Lisle started a Friday Snippet For Everyone group in which participants post an excerpt (snippet) of a work in progress. Thus far I have been unable to get the code to work. I need to find some participant who has Blogger with a Classic Template and see how they implement the code. Anyway, here is my Friday Snippet. Naturally it's from Murder by Dewey Decimal. Stop gritting your teeth, Randall; it's not a long one. EDITED TO ADD: I have to code working now, I think. Be sure to visit the other snippets. They're quite good.

Excerpt 4.4 from Murder by Dewey Decimal
Copyright 2007. All rights reserved.

Chapter 4.4

      "I do not think I can help you, Chief Donaldson," Evelyn Ryton said as she glanced around the lobby of the Eagle Inn. "My sister and I haven't spoken in years. I have no idea who could hate her enough to kill her, but, knowing Agatha, I imagine your list of suspects is rather large -- quite possibly the entire city of Ryton." The morning sun, beaming through the tall windows, glared off her red pantsuit and red shoes. Her hair was pulled back by a red barrette.
      The chief had always believed that environment played the largest factor in determining the personality of a human being. Now, having spent a few minutes questioning Evelyn and comparing her with Agatha, he was beginning to think there really could be a genetic factor for meanness. Of course, they did come from the same environment, he thought.
      "Do you have any idea what could have been in that safe?" he asked, squinting somewhat and wondering if she always dressed in one color.
      "As I've already mentioned--repeatedly if you paid attention--Agatha and I were not in communication. So I have no way of knowing what she kept in there." She settled back. "When we were children, it contained our great, great uncle's Civil War journal and a few other war souvenirs that Grandfather considered priceless. I wonder whatever became of them."
      "I think they're in a display in the library," the chief said. "On the second floor."
      Evelyn seemed amused. "Grandfather would have liked that. I imagine that's why Agatha put them there. She spent a lot of time attempting to win his favor. Even after he was dead, she couldn't break the habit."
      "If you don't mind me asking--"
      "Would it matter if I did?" she cut in.
      "No." The chief was developing a real dislike for the woman. "As I was saying, why didn't you and Agatha get along?"
      "Surely you're heard the story," Evelyn said with a sly twist to her voice. "About how the evil sister Evelyn stole the shining, pure husband from the good sister Agatha and about how the husband went off a cliff in a fast car." Suddenly she looked tired. "It was a long time ago."
      The chief waited.
      "It was a long time ago," she repeated. "Is it important now?"
      "Could be."
      She looked at his face and then down at her hands. "There's not much to tell. Agatha married Kenneth Storer. They were both too young. He fell in love with me, and we decided to run away together. On his way to pick me up, he lost control of his car, and it went off Watts Ridge. Agatha never forgave me." She paused. "I left Ryton soon after."
      The chief nodded. "Sometimes it's best to leave places that have painful memories."
      "Oh, that wasn't why I left," she said. "Grandfather gave me no choice, thanks to dear Agatha. His house--the library now--was broken into the day after Kenneth died, and Mother's jewelry was taken. Agatha convinced Grandfather that I was the thief. He told me to leave town, or he would have me arrested. I went to stay with an aunt. I never saw him again." She paused and then made an impatient gesture. "How could this possibly be important?"
      "Maybe it isn't. I have to check everything I can." The chief shifted in his chair so that he could see without the sun in his eyes. "Can you tell me where you were the night Agatha was killed?"
      "I believe I was home. Alone. Watching TV." She smiled. "I don't know if I could prove it, however. Will I have to?"
      "I'm not accusing you of anything," the chief said. "I'm trying to solve her murder."
      "She'd like it if I went to jail for her murder," Evelyn mused. "You know, she always blamed me for everything, her bad marriage, the theft. I believe she always thought that if she could blacken me enough, Grandfather would love her. What she couldn't understand--what took me years to understand--was that the old man couldn't love anyone. I think our mother's death killed it in him." She shook her head. "I have always wondered why he didn't send us to the orphanage."
      "Perhaps he actually cared about you," the chief suggested. "Some people have a hard time in showing their feelings."
      "If you had known him, you would realize what a completely asinine statement that was," she said. "I think he simply couldn't bear to see anything that belonged to him escape. Agatha was a lot like him. It about killed her when he left the house to the city. Even worse was losing all that money. I wasn't surprised she became librarian; it was the closest she could get to the fortune."
      "She seemed to have quite a bit of money herself," the chief said. "A millionaire several times over."
      "Yes, that surprised me when Hastings told me this morning," she said. "I think he's hoping that I'll contest the will so that he can prove what a very good attorney he is. He and I grew up together. Do you know he never married? I don't think he will ever find anyone who loves him as much he does."
      The chief couldn't keep from smiling. "You know him all right. Are you going to contest the will?"
      "No, I'm sure it would be a waste of time and money; narcissistic as he may be, Hastings knows what he's doing." She shrugged. "Let her buy her memorial. It's the only way she'll ever get one." She paused, the hard lines of her face softening. "I shouldn't say that. She's dead now, and she was my sister. I wish I had known about all this sooner. I only learned of her death because a friend of mine in Oklahoma City read about it in the paper and called me. I would have liked to have attended her funeral. Did you go?"
      The chief nodded.
      "Was it a nice service?" Evelyn asked, looking old. "I did take some flowers out to the grave. She's buried next to Mother."
      "It was a nice service," the chief said, gently.
      "Well, good. I'm glad for that." Evelyn checked her watch. "Will you need me much longer? I have an appointment with Hastings at eleven. He's going to give me the brooch. I've decided to keep it."
      The chief rose to go. "One more question and then I won't take up any more of your time: Do you have any idea where her money came from?"
      "I have no idea. She certainly didn't inherit it. Grandfather left us nothing. You might ask Rich. He told me that he had kept in touch with her somewhat over the years." She sighed. "Good old Richard. If he had been a little more exciting, perhaps none of this would have happened."
      Looking at the chief's puzzled face, she barked a short laugh. "I thought you knew. Admittedly, it is ancient history, but I expected you to be familiar with the whole sordid story. I thought the police dug into all sorts of things."
      The chief gave her a hard questioning look.
      "If Richard had been a little more exciting," she said, over-emphasizing each word, "I might have never left him."
      "You were..." The chief was taken aback.
      "Yes, I was married to Richard." She smiled bitterly. "Are you surprised? It was practically a farce. While Kenneth was cheating on my sister Agatha with me, I was cheating on his brother--my husband, good old Richard Storer--with him. You should have seen it. Everyone sneaking around and trying to hide from everyone else. It must have been very funny."
      The chief thought about what it had cost the people involved and said, "No, I think it must have been very sad."
      The smile faded from her face. The chief rose and excused himself.

End excerpt. Copyright 2007. All rights reserved. No copying or downloading without express written permission.