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Cynthia E. Hurst mysteries
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Lilax Books
Type: Fiction
Pages: 216
Copyright: June 9, 2020
ISBN-13: 9798652573881
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
When a hobby leads to homicide ...
Collecting wild bird eggs seemed like a harmless enough hobby for a Victorian gentleman. But the discovery of some very rare eggs in a Cotswold woodland brings out the worst in two collectors who both want them, regardless of the price they must pay. When the body of a man with a connection to both collectors is found in the forest, clock repairer Jacob Silver and his wife Sarah are reluctantly drawn into helping the police to crack a case where rivalry and obsession have led to murder.
Excerpt
He dreamt of fireworks, exploding overhead and showering him with sparks. The dream seemed so realistic that he woke up and lay in the darkness, his heart thumping.
But the sounds continued. Jacob realized with a start that it was not imaginary fireworks he was hearing, but someone pounding on the door, so loudly that the small house seemed to shake. Beside him, Sarah stirred and said sleepily, “What on earth is that noise, Jacob?”
“Someone’s knocking on the door.” He listened for a moment. “The scullery door. I’ll go down.”
“Do be careful.”
Despite himself, Jacob smiled. “I will, but I doubt anyone intent on causing harm would advertise their presence so loudly.”
He lit the candle, wrapping his woollen dressing gown around him and shoving his feet into leather slippers before starting down the stairs. At the bottom of the flight, he paused for a moment. The knocking was continuing, although less forcefully now. Jacob assumed his caller had seen the light from the candle and knew someone was coming to answer the door. Either that, or they were afraid the entire neighborhood would hear them if they made too much noise.
He went through the kitchen and the scullery and cautiously opened the door. In spite of what he had said to Sarah, he was apprehensive about the reason anyone would be pounding on his door in the middle of the night. It couldn’t possibly be anything good.
A figure stood outside the door, wrapped in a voluminous coat. Between the flat cap pulled down almost to the eyes and a scarf pulled up to cover the mouth and nose, barely a sliver of face showed. Jacob frowned and a gloved hand came up to pull the scarf down, revealing more.
“Sorry to be wakin’ you up, Mr Silver,” a voice said. “And your missus and the little ’un, too, no doubt.”
“Bobby?”
“Arr.”
“Come inside.”
Bobby stepped into the scullery, and Jacob hastily shut the door.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. Numerous possibilities crossed his mind, most of which he hoped were wrong. Bobby pulled the scarf down further and pushed his cap back. He appeared to be unharmed, but possibly suffering from shock, his hands shaking and his face chalk white.
Behind him in the kitchen, Jacob heard footsteps and knew Sarah had come down to investigate. He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder.
“Light a lamp and stir up the stove, Sarah,” he told her. “It’s Bobby Tucker and there’s a problem of some sort. He’s shivering, for one thing, and needs to warm up.”
“I’m well enough, sir.”
“You’re clearly not,” Jacob said in exasperation. “It’s the middle of the night; you’re shaking like a leaf and something is obviously very wrong. Come into the kitchen and tell us what it is.”
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