Changed to using prose because it’s faster and I can mess around more. But still continuing…
Americans were very silly. Adrienne tapped her fingers on the side of the teacup. Calling her a lady, as if she had any right to the title. There was something that this country lacked in the most amusing way. Aristocracy.
Once she finished her tea, he had said. Oh, she would finish her tea. She would finish it with the most delicate and purposeful but polite enjoyment she could muster.
Hopefully she wouldn’t chuckle into it. But that was a risk she would have to take.
She had never thought it would be this easy to gain access to the crime scene. Charles Brimley had made no secret of his dislike for her, she couldn’t have investigated his property even when the man had been alive. Axe marks, indeed. She’d seen no such thing. There was a newspaper on the desk, and she could very clearly see ink on the captain’s hands. He must have read it. Enough even to be agitated.
How he had missed the paragraph about his own investigative team’s discovery of those marks, she couldn’t understand.
Of course he was being rude. In that paragraph, the journalists had quoted him honestly in order to play up the evidence of an axe and make the poor sod look incapable. Anyone could see that. Normally, she wouldn’t have stood for his flamboyant gesturing. But she had been ribbing Captain Elliot rather mercilessly since her arrival. As funny as it was, she didn’t quite like to do it. Still, it was the best way she knew to ensure she was treated like a spoiled brat mixed with just a bit of nosy old biddy.
“Thank you for your consideration, Captain,” she said, setting the empty teacup on the edge of his desk. “I’m certain that the constable will be able to keep up with me.”
Nuance was lost on these people, but she still enjoyed stretching out her long legs and standing as slowly as if she were taking a walk. Although she was not a tall woman, her legs still made an impact. And the Captain was a short man, suddenly confronted by a woman in heels.
She practically led the way in her excitement. Although she hadn’t had a chance to actually examine Charles’s front porch, she had seen suspicious signs from her window. If she had been home that night, she might have been a witness. Pity, that. But no one could miss the smell of vervain. Charles had been involved in something, and it had had him scared.
Whatever this Axeman murderer was, she doubted it was human. Perhaps it had started out as such, but so many awful things did.
Outside, she decided to drop her concerned but stupid citizen act and smiled at the constable again. “My apologies, Constable Ash. It’s very intimidating to be surrounded by men in such a place. You saved my life with that cuppa.”