Shadow waltz
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| Location | |
|---|---|
| Community Centre | Available |
Browse Related Items
| Genre |
| Detective and mystery fiction. Fiction. |
- ISBN: 0738712493
- ISBN: 9780738712499
-
Physical Description
print
232 pages. - Edition 1st ed.
- Publisher Woodbury, MN : Llewellyn Publications, [2008]
- Copyright ©2008
Content descriptions
| General Note: | "Midnight Ink." |
| Immediate Source of Acquisition Note: | LSC 15.95 |
Series
Additional Information
Shadow Waltz
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Table of Contents
Shadow Waltz
| Section | Section Description | Page Number |
|---|---|---|
| One | ||
| "You nearly killed her!" declared the desiccated man, his voice rising in indignation. | ||
| Creighton Ashcroft did a double take at Walter Schutt. "I beg your pardon?"Â | ||
| "Our Sharon. It nearly killed her when you took off the way you did," the wizened bookstore owner explained. "Without so much as a word! And then breaking off your engagement to be with the McClelland girl. It's disgraceful!"Â | ||
| Creighton ran a hand through his chestnut hair and heaved a loud sigh. "Mr. Schutt, Sharon and I were never engaged."Â | ||
| "No ring was exchanged, no, but there was an understanding."Â | ||
| Creighton shook his head in disbelief. To the other residents of Ridgebury, Connecticut, the year was 1935, but to Walter Schutt and his narrow frame of reference, it may as well be the turn of the century-the nineteenth century. | ||
| "Understanding? We had no 'understanding.' I took her to the pictures a few times-that's all."Â | ||
| "You were courting her, weren't you?"Â | ||
| "No ... maybe ... perhaps, in a manner of speaking."Â | ||
| "Well, to you it may have been just speaking, but to her it was serious."Â | ||
| "Now see here, Mr. Schutt, I never promised Sharon anything."Â | ||
| The shopkeeper pulled a face. "No, young fellas like you don't promise anything, do ya? But you do your best to lead a sweet young thing like my Sharon to believe otherwise!"Â | ||
| The presence of the words "sweet" and "Sharon" in the same sentence made Creighton wince. "Think what you like, Mr. Schutt, but my intentions toward Sharon were never anything less than honorable. I'm sure she can verify that I never laid a finger on her." Creighton cringed again as he envisioned physical contact with the moon-faced girl. | ||
| "Even more reason for her to believe you were a gentleman." Schutt clicked his tongue chidingly. "Poor thing cried into her pillow every night for a week."Â | ||
| With this statement, the spherical shape of Sharon Schutt appeared from behind a curtain that divided the shop from a rear office. The girl was grinning ear-to-ear as she launched her piglike countenance into a cupcake piled high with whipped cream and topped with a maraschino cherry. | ||
| "Isn't that right, Sharon?" Schutt placed an affectionate arm around his youngest daughter. | ||
| "Hmph?" The girl questioned as crumbs streamed from her mouth. | ||
| "I told Mr. Ashcroft how you cried into your pillow every night for a week after he left."Â | ||
| "Huh?" Sharon answered distractedly between chews, her gaze never once moving from the partially consumed treat in her hand. | ||
| "You cried, my blossom," Schutt repeated loudly. "Every night. Remember?"Â | ||
| Sharon paused, obviously debating whether or not she should answer before taking another bite. "Yes," she stated flatly. "I was devastated." She turned her eyes briefly toward Creighton and bit, viciously, into the cupcake. | ||
| "I'm sorry, Sharon. I never meant to hurt you," the Englishman apologized. "But let's look on the bright side: this situation hasn't seemed to have affected your appetite. That's a good sign!" He flashed a radiant smile. | ||
| Schutt sneered. "That's only just returned this week. Until then she wouldn't eat a bite. Mrs. Schutt and I were very worried about her. Wasting away, she was!"Â | ||
| Creighton surveyed Sharon's corpulent figure and estimated that it would require several months of fasting before she was in any danger of "wasting away." Given Schutt's current attitude, however, he thought it best to refrain from stating so. "I thought you looked rather ... um ... svelte."Â | ||
| The Schutts glared at him. | ||
| "Well, as it appears I'm no longer welcome here, why don't we get down to business? I believe you have a book for Miss McClelland. May I have it please?" | ||
| Schutt scowled and reluctantly pulled a book down from the shelf behind him. | ||
| "Seventy-five cents."Â | ||
| As Sharon returned her attention to the cupcake, Creighton hurriedly counted out the proper change and placed it on the counter, eagerly anticipating his freedom. | ||
| The bookseller eyed the three quarters on the counter and handed the book to the Englishman. However, before Creighton could get his fingers on it, Schutt pulled it back with a quick flick of the wrist. "You know, if the economy were better, I wouldn't sell this book to Miss McClelland. Why, on principle, I shouldn't sell it. After all, she's just as guilty in this as you are!"Â | ||
| "Guilty!" Creighton sputtered. "Guilty? Why, my good man, don't you see that she's the victim in this whole thing? The truth is Marjorie only broke off the engagement with Detective Jameson because she found out he had his eye on some other young woman. Marjorie was desolate. Desolate!" | ||
| Where, why, or how the farfetched story had formed in his fevered brain, Creighton had no idea. He had once heard of men who had faked their own deaths to escape from prison, debts, and clingâ¢ing wives and could only imagine that the same desperate state of mind was causing this spate of lies to exit from his lips. But whatâ¢ever the cause, the ship had been launched and Creighton had little choice but to steer it to the next harbor. | ||
| Sharon, in the meantime, had allowed the remainder of her cupcake to drop to the floor with a soft plop. "Some other young woman?" she quizzed, a dab of whipped cream on her nose and her eyes agog with excitement. | ||
| "That's not how Detective Jameson tells it," Schutt challenged. | ||
| "Of course not," Creighton agreed. "What man likes to admit he's wrong?" | ||
| Schutt was stoic. "He's a man of the law. Fine. Upstanding." He folded his arms across his chest. "I don't believe it."Â | ||
| "Fine and upstanding have nothing to do with impressing a girl or her parents. Parents ..." Creighton's eyes lit up. "Say, Jameson has been to your house for dinner more than once over the past few weeks hasn't he?"Â | ||
| Sharon tittered breathlessly, hopped on one foot and waved her hands in the air as if stricken by some bizarre seizure. | ||
| "He has been to our house for dinner," Schutt mused. "And he did ask for a second helping of Louise's rhubarb pie. I've never seen anyone do that. I find it only tolerable myself." Lost in thought, and the prospect of marrying off his seemingly ineligible daughter, he dropped the book he had been clutching so tightly onto the counter. | ||
| Creighton snatched it up and tucked it beneath his lightweight summer suit jacket."Why don't you invite him for dinner, Daddy?" Sharon requested. "I can make a peach pie. You know everyone loves my peach pie ..."Â | ||
| With that, Creighton snuck out the door of the bookstore and onto the Ridgebury village green. |
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