'Til Death Do Us Part by Amanda Quick Read Free Book Online Page B

dead and dying blooms was almost overpowering. The gilt mirror had been covered with black velvet as was the custom. It was nonsense to think that it was bad luck for the mourners to see their own reflections in the house of the recently deceased but some of the old superstitions still informed the rituals associated with death.
    The clock on the mantel had been stopped at five minutes to midnight—the time of death.
    She crossed the small space and looked down at the silver tray lined with white velvet. The tear-catcher and the jet ring were gone. The only item left was a black enameled bell inscribed with the initials
C. L
. The bell was attached to a metal chain. There was a ring at the end of the chain.
    A photograph of the deceased hung on the wall. A pair of scissors had been applied to it in order to remove everyone except the dead woman from the scene. Black lace was draped around the frame.
    Below the photograph was a funeral announcement card. The name of the deceased was written in an elegant hand:
Calista Langley
. The line where the date of death was to be inserted had not yet been completed.
    Calista Langley was not the first woman whose portrait had hung in the chamber.
    Anna hurried back across the room and let herself out into the hallway, relocking the door behind her. She did not breathe a sigh of relief until she was downstairs.
    There was no question but that her husband was obsessed to thepoint of madness. She had to find a way out of the nightmarish marriage. But who would believe her?
    It was all too easy for a husband to convince the authorities that his wife was insane, but it would be next to impossible for a wife to have her husband committed.

8
    C ALISTA WALKE D INTO Masterson’s Bookshop with a sense of relief. The bells over the door tinkled cheerfully in welcome. There was something about the very atmosphere of the place that calmed her strained nerves. The tranquility of the cozy shop was infused with the comforting smell of the volumes, old and new, that were shelved in the bookcases.
    It was as if she had stepped into a different dimension. Outside, the fog drifted ominously in the street. The clatter of hooves and carriage wheels echoed eerily in the mist. Strangers appeared and disappeared into the gray, featureless landscape. With each step she had been uncomfortably aware that any one of the people she had passed could have been the intruder who had left the memento mori ring in her bedroom.
    But inside Masterson’s all was calm and serene. It was only when she took a few deep breaths that she realized just how unnerved she had become in the past several days.
    The middle-aged woman behind the counter was in the midst of ringing up a sale but she smiled warmly.
    â€œMiss Langley,” she said. “How nice to see you. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
    â€œGood day to you, Mrs. Masterson,” Calista said. “Please don’t rush on my account. I always enjoy a browse through your shop.”
    â€œRight, then, take your time.”
    Martha Masterson went back to her customer, a young man who looked to be about the same age as Andrew.
    â€œThere you are, sir,” she said briskly. “Enjoy
Clive Stone and the Affair of the Murder Machine.
It’s been very popular since it came out as a book.”
    â€œRead it when it was serialized in the
Flying Intelligencer
of course, but I wanted a copy for my personal library,” the customer said. “I’m reading Mr. Hastings’s latest in the newspaper now. Not sure about the character of Wilhelmina Preston, though. Don’t know why the author had to bring in a lady who appears to be more or less in the same line of work as Clive Stone.”
    â€œMiss Preston is a scientist,” Martha said. “Not a detective.”
    â€œBut Stone is asking her for assistance on his new case,” the customer grumbled.
    â€œNot to worry,” Martha said. She gave the young man a