This morning’s May world is dampish and warm. Trees and grass seem to be in a contest to see which can be greener. The water fountain among the flowers is rippling and a slight breeze moves through new leaves. It’s going to be a beautiful spring day but my thoughts turn to Moonlight Can Be Murder where it is winter in Ednalee, Oklahoma. Nettie has met with one problem after another since her arrival in her home town. Below is one of those problems which awaited her when she returned to Uncle Javin’s house after digging into its history at the Carnegie Library.
Even though the sun should have been at its zenith, swirling snow and low clouds darkened the day with a premature twilight. Unlatching the gate, I looked up at my front porch just as a figure arose from the top step where it had been sitting.
As I stood with one hand on the gate, my mouth open and my heart caught in my throat, a tall, bare-headed man wearing a beige coat with turned-up fur collar strode down the walk toward me.
This stranger seemed to be an extenuation of his car. He too appeared dark, expensive, and, in the half-light, ominous. Snowflakes melted on his short, black hair. His face was lean and tan and his eyes looked nearly black. Perfect white teeth flashed as he smiled. He was altogether one of the most attractive men ever to cross my field of vision.
“Mrs. McNeil?” he asked, holding out his hand.
Numb, I nodded.
“I’m Sherman Lloyd,” the apparition said. “I believe you are living in my house.”
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