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Cynthia E. Hurst mysteries
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Lilax Books
Type: Fiction
Pages: 210
Copyright: May 27, 2021
ISBN-13: 9798511492308
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
A spate of anonymous letters leads to murder, and another case for Jacob Silver and his wife Sarah.
The anonymous letter suggesting a respectable factory owner had broken his marriage vows was just the start. Then other letters began arriving, all hinting at misbehavior or worse, each accompanied by a drawing of a rapidly emptying hourglass. Those receiving the letters all insist the accusations are false, but a suspicious death seems to indicate there may be more than a grain of truth to them. Clock repairer Jacob Silver and his wife Sarah join the police in their Cotswolds market town to discover who wrote the letters, and which one may have revealed a secret worth killing over.
Excerpt
He waited patiently until Franklin Cooper came in, closing the door forcefully behind him. He was a sturdy, fair-haired man in his late forties, sure of his position in society and expecting anyone he met in the small Oxfordshire town to also be aware of it.
As usual, he gave Jacob a quick appraising survey, no doubt irritated by the fact that Jacob’s clothing was as well-tailored as his own, and his speech perhaps even better, since it lacked the distinctive Birmingham accent Cooper had never quite been able to lose.
He nodded now, acknowledging Jacob’s presence. “Silver.”
“Good morning, Mr Cooper.”
“Do you know why I asked you to come here?”
“No, sir, I do not. I assume it is not to discuss a clock or watch repair.”
“No, it is not.”
Cooper kept staring at Jacob, as if expecting him to admit to knowing a reason for the meeting. When he said nothing, Cooper reached inside his jacket and took out an envelope.
“Do you know anything about this, Silver?”
“No. May I ask what it is?”
Cooper almost thrust the envelope at him. “Read it.”
Jacob lifted his eyebrows slightly as he took the envelope. There was no stamp or postmark, just a plain white envelope with Cooper’s name on the front, printed in capital letters: F.B. COOPER, ESQ.
“Do you wish me to look at the contents?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Jacob carefully opened the envelope and took out the single sheet of paper it contained, a piece of writing notepaper of reasonable quality. He unfolded it and read the few lines which had been written on it in precise copperplate handwriting. Then he folded it in half and returned it to the envelope.
“I do hope, sir,” he said, “that you are not thinking I had anything at all to do with this.”
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