... the dimming of the light... (part 27)
… the dimming of the light… (Part 27)
Peter Hunter
Day 36… Alice's story continues…
… what… I was doing was therapeutic… stroking the bladed tip of the broad head arrow on the whetstone…
… gradually honing the edge back to its razor sharpness…
this arrow was very special… made by my late husband as an example of a perfect killing instrument… twenty-nine inches in length of beech dowel, tipped with a hunting 'Razorhead', bought in the USA where bow-hunting always was legal…
… and fletched with extra-long strips of feathers… to counteract its heavier-than-normal arrow head…
Years ago, he had explained to me, that it would be of less than expected range - so must be aimed a little higher than usual…
As I carefully honed the blade… I pondered… thinking about who had killed my husband… and why?
… there were not many people left… mostly dead or ill… and not many carrying shotguns…
… and what would his or her motive have been?
The more I thought about it… the more I became suspicious of the Colonel. The old fool had become more amorous towards me in recent days… much of what he said contained sexual innuendo and I had no doubt that in 'pre-crisis' jargon he 'fancied me'…
… although none seemed to have the time or inclination for anything sexual now…
the more I thought about it the more my suspicions turned into instincts - and the more I searched my mind for evidence…
I knew he possessed a shotgun and ammunition - he had a sexual motive and by thinning out our number it increased his chances of survival. Also by eliminating my husband the Colonel might believe he would assume leadership of our tiny group - something he had tried to do before the murder… possibly thinking that his former rank in the army made him a natural for the rôle…
… and the more I thought about it… the more certain I became…
(To be continued…)
© Peter Hunter 2012
Peter Hunter's full-length books on Kindle
… the dimming of the light… (Part 27)
Peter Hunter
Day 36… Alice's story continues…
… what… I was doing was therapeutic… stroking the bladed tip of the broad head arrow on the whetstone…
… gradually honing the edge back to its razor sharpness…
this arrow was very special… made by my late husband as an example of a perfect killing instrument… twenty-nine inches in length of beech dowel, tipped with a hunting 'Razorhead', bought in the USA where bow-hunting always was legal…
… and fletched with extra-long strips of feathers… to counteract its heavier-than-normal arrow head…
Years ago, he had explained to me, that it would be of less than expected range - so must be aimed a little higher than usual…
As I carefully honed the blade… I pondered… thinking about who had killed my husband… and why?
… there were not many people left… mostly dead or ill… and not many carrying shotguns…
… and what would his or her motive have been?
The more I thought about it… the more I became suspicious of the Colonel. The old fool had become more amorous towards me in recent days… much of what he said contained sexual innuendo and I had no doubt that in 'pre-crisis' jargon he 'fancied me'…
… although none seemed to have the time or inclination for anything sexual now…
the more I thought about it the more my suspicions turned into instincts - and the more I searched my mind for evidence…
I knew he possessed a shotgun and ammunition - he had a sexual motive and by thinning out our number it increased his chances of survival. Also by eliminating my husband the Colonel might believe he would assume leadership of our tiny group - something he had tried to do before the murder… possibly thinking that his former rank in the army made him a natural for the rôle…
… and the more I thought about it… the more certain I became…
(To be continued…)
© Peter Hunter 2012
Peter Hunter's full-length books on Kindle
