Congratulations, you did a great job and I’m enjoying reading and trying to figure out who did it; I’m having fun reading it. It is very descriptive and has a good plot. You are a very talented writer.
Lady Rena folded her hands together, her elbows propped up on the arms of the rocker. “You know about Marcella’s son…” It was a statement rather than a question. She didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Deputy Danny had told him at their morning coffee klatch.
“I’m sorry about that,” Harry responded. “Marcella must be devastated.” Even as he mouthed the words, he felt a pang of fear in the possibility that he would never experience the inimitable Marcella in this room again. He looked at Pinkie, sure the big gray cat would miss her.
“None of us will ever see Marcella again,” Lady Rena was saying, her eyes clearly moist. She retrieved a monogrammed silk handkerchief with the same dexterity as the snuffbox, and dabbed daintily at her tear ducts.
“What happened?” Harry asked gently. He figured she was outlining the worst case scenario.
“We’re not sure. She intended to stop by the convalescent home as usual because she wanted to find out from the staff what had happened to Reginald. She never made it. Dr. Corbeau arrived to pick her up, and discovered she wasn’t there.”
Harry sipped his tea, his thoughts confused. The scenario didn’t appear on the surface to fit his niece’s experience. Why would anyone go all the way from Beaufort to Williston Creek to dump a body? There were too many convenient places in-between. So much less conspicuous.