The Black Cat: A Richard Jury Mystery
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Richard Jury is still dealing with the guilt of the accident that sent Lu Aquilar into a coma. But then he gets assigned the case of a beautiful woman who was murdered on the grounds of a pub called the Black Cat. And the only witness is a black cat. The woman is unidentifiable-but Jury is going to see that the person responsible is known to all...
there, very tall, looking down at her, very small, and closed the gap between them. “I like that monkey. I used to have one, but mine was blue.” He removed his coat and sat down. “My name’s Richard.” With hardly a blink, she took in the blue monkey, as if all monkeys were blue, save for hers, which earned it a doubtful look. “My name’s Dora. Do you have a cat?” She moved closer. “No, but there’s one where I work.” Melrose was a bit miffed. She hadn’t asked him if he had a cat. He did have a
since,” said Cummins, “but I expect that’ll be taken down now. No reason to interfere with business any more than’s necessary. Owners are on an extended holiday, and it’s being looked after by a friend of theirs. Name’s Sally Hawkins and she lives in Beaconsfield but helps out if they need it. Her niece, I think the child is, lives with her.” Jury turned from the small collection of trees to look at the pub. “Is Ms. Hawkins in?” “Should be. I called to tell her you’d want a word with her. She
two fingers of gin. “She could have been at the Black Cat to meet someone. Was there anyone in the pub, any stranger, on the Saturday night?” But if the “stranger” was planning murder, he’d have avoided putting himself on display. Sally tapped ash from her cigarette into the aluminum tray. “Ha! Any stranger? Not even the regulars were here except for Johnny Boy and his old dog and Mrs. Maltese.” When Jury looked at Cummins, the sergeant nodded. “Police have talked to them. No joy, no one saw a
produced his warrant card, holding it close enough to Kit’s face that she could have kissed it. “Something else, Superintendent? I can’t imagine anything we didn’t tell you the other night. Will you sit down? Will you take tea?” The question barely had time to leave her mouth before Wiggins stepped on it, saying, yes, they would. “Not if it’s any trouble,” Jury tacked on, loving the accusatory look he got from his sergeant. Traitor. “Not for me, it isn’t. I’m not fixing it.” From the table
Harry’s. Harry said, “So now it’s a serial killer. Superintendent Jury: do you honestly think I’d murder three women just like that?” Jury smiled and slid off his chair. “I wouldn’t put it past you, Harry. Night.” He headed for the door. 40 Early the next morning, Jury was in the Snow Hill station talking to Dennis Jenkins. Jenkins said, “What else do we know about the first victim? Kate Banks? You talked to this woman”—Jenkins flipped open a folder on his desk—“Myra Brewer?” “Right.