A Lonely Death
A Lonely Death
Charles Todd
Dedication
California has a wonderful list of independent mystery book stores—we salute them all in dedicating A Lonely Death to Ed Kaufman and the staff of “M” is for Mystery in San Mateo. With great affection, we recognize a lifetime of loving the mystery and a second career as a bookseller supporting it—a man with a great sense of humor and infinite knowledge.
And because they shared Rutledge almost from the beginning, we say farewell to two faithful companions. . . .
Going on fifteen is old for a Golden, but Linda’s Simba, a rescue, was loved by all who met him, and he returned that love with a deep and extraordinary devotion. We said good-bye on May 29, 2010. Letting go is the last great gift of love. Simba filled such a chasm of emptiness when we lost Biedermann and Cassandra that we knew he was meant for us. That joyous smile and a heart wide enough to encompass cats and dogs and people were his hallmarks. We shall not look upon his like again.
Going on fifteen isn’t old for a cat. Fluff, another rescue, ten pounds of elegant long gold and white Persian fur, was a diva who offered love on her own dear terms. A North Carolinian by birth, she spent the second half of her life in Delaware, but never forgot her roots. She brought such happiness with her, and was content to sit by the computer as I worked. She put up a gallant fight against the cancer that slowly took her from us, and died on her own terms, surrounded by her family, on June 30. To Martha and Marla, who gave her into our keeping, our eternal gratitude. It wasn’t easy parting with her, but they knew she would be safe with us. In return, she brightened our lives in so many small ways that we were hers from the start. Bless her for all she was and all she gave.
Sleep well, dear ones.
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About the Author
Also by Charles Todd
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
Northern France, Early June 1920
The sod had grown over the graves, turning the torn earth a soft green, and the rows of white crosses gleamed brightly in the morning sun. Except for the fact that a fallen soldier lay beneath each wooden marker, it was pretty there under the blue bowl of the French sky, peaceful finally after four tumultuous years of war. Even the birds had come back, picking at the grass for seeds, insects, and worms.
The man watched them, those birds, and was reminded of a line from Hamlet, that somehow had caught a schoolboy’s imagination and then lingered in a corner of his adult mind—that a worm may feed on a king. Had these fed on lesser dead?