Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd (2016)
“OUTSIDE my bedroom window, the winter stars were blazing even brighter—if that were possible—than they had while Dogger and I were walking home.
Beyond the Visto, Castor and Pollux, the Heavenly Twins, had risen well above the eastern horizon.
Oliver Inchbald had written something about the stars, hadn’t he?
What was it? Of course! It wasn’t from Hobbyhorse House, but its companion volume, Bedtime Ballads: Old Castor says to Pollux, “A little lad I see, A-strolling on the distant Earth.
Could h...e be watching me?”
Old Pollux says to Castor, “How vain you are, my twin, ’Tis me! ’tis me! the little lad Has seized an interest in.”
It was all a matter of viewpoint, wasn’t it?
The motives for killing a village wood-carver would appear to be entirely different than those for murdering a much-beloved author. As would the suspects.
Who in their right mind would even dream of doing away with Oliver Inchbald—a man who had brought so much pleasure into the world?
The Death of a Household Name, I should call it, if I were writing up the case disguised as fiction, as Miss Christie has done.MoreLess
Beyond the Visto, Castor and Pollux, the Heavenly Twins, had risen well above the eastern horizon.
Oliver Inchbald had written something about the stars, hadn’t he?
What was it? Of course! It wasn’t from Hobbyhorse House, but its companion volume, Bedtime Ballads: Old Castor says to Pollux, “A little lad I see, A-strolling on the distant Earth.
Could h...e be watching me?”
Old Pollux says to Castor, “How vain you are, my twin, ’Tis me! ’tis me! the little lad Has seized an interest in.”
It was all a matter of viewpoint, wasn’t it?
The motives for killing a village wood-carver would appear to be entirely different than those for murdering a much-beloved author. As would the suspects.
Who in their right mind would even dream of doing away with Oliver Inchbald—a man who had brought so much pleasure into the world?
The Death of a Household Name, I should call it, if I were writing up the case disguised as fiction, as Miss Christie has done.MoreLess
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