The Unkindness of Ravens by M. Hilliard (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

Anita welcomed everyone and made a few remarks about a life well-lived, and invited people to share their fond remembrances of Joanna on our special page on the library website. The rest of the board worked the crowd, the Friends provided refreshments, and Helene took charge of Joanna’s parents, who looked shell-shocked. Jilly had arranged some quiet activities for whatever children were in attendance, and the rest of us took turns monitoring the reading room. It would have been a lovely spring gathering, were we not there to memorialize a murder victim while wondering which of our friends or neighbors had killed her.

I was glad of the chance to move around. I’d decided to take a page from Officer Webber’s playbook. I would find an opportunity to talk to everyone I considered a suspect, no matter how farfetched a suspect they were, and try to shake something loose. Risky, but after another sleepless night, frustrated by my lack of progress, I decided it was worth it. I didn’t want any of my friends asking questions that would tip off a killer, and the police didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.

I wandered over to my favorite bench. Situated between the manor and the lawn, it was screened by budding forsythia, but still offered a good view of the proceedings. I watched the kids gathered nearby, some coloring at the picnic tables, others blowing soap bubbles. In the manner of children, they had quickly forgotten to be somber, and were taking full advantage of being sprung from school and allowed to play while their parents were distracted. Sophie and Olivia were among them. I watched Joanna’s two little girls, alternately caught up in the moment, playing with their friends on a warm spring day, and suddenly stopping, remembering they were sad, and why, and probably feeling bad that, just for a little while, they had forgotten their grief. I wished with all my heart they could understand that their mother would wish them only joy. Feeling bad about not feeling bad was something I understood all too well. Joanna’s murder had made it clear I still had ghosts to lay to rest, but first I’d do my part toward closure for Sophie and Olivia. I only hoped it didn’t mean revealing their father as a killer.

I shifted on my perch and turned my attention to the large expanse of lawn that sloped from the manor to the woods lining the Ravens Kill, seeking my prey. I had five suspects and I knew they were all here somewhere. The lawn was crowded with people—many of them in black, forming groups and then scattering, homing in on the refreshment table and wheeling away, expressing condolences and exchanging gossip. Unanswered questions created an undercurrent of tension and excitement. They looked like crows who had stumbled upon a feast, wary of any danger attached to this sudden largesse, but unwilling to pass it by. Ravens tended to work alone, but crows were social. They formed a group. What was that called?

A murder. It was a murder.

“I beg your pardon?”

I turned to see a startled Matthew Prentiss behind me. I had spoken aloud; a bad habit I had when lost in thought.

“Crows,” I said. “A group of crows is called a murder. I was trying to remember.”

He gave me an odd look. I gestured to the group on the lawn.

“They reminded me of birds, everyone flitting around. Like crows.”

“Not ravens?” he said.

I shook my head.

“Ravens are larger, and don’t travel in groups from what I understand. But I’ve read that all corvids mourn their dead.”

“They all look alike to me,” Matthew stared at the gathering around the refreshment table. After a moment he turned away. “I’ll leave you to your birdwatching, Greer, and go make sure there are no ruffled feathers that need smoothing there in the crowd, or flock, or whatever.”

He gave me a thin smile and left.

Odd. Matthew seemed grim. I had expected somber yet reassuring. Perhaps the mention of murder had thrown him off his game?

“Murder,” I muttered, turning my attention back to the gathering.

Shadows crisscrossed the patch of sunlight in front of me. The manor ravens were on the move. One by one, they glided across the lawn and took up posts in the trees that fringed the property. It was rare to see so many at once. And what was that called?

“Unkindness,” I said, “an unkindness of ravens.”

Rubbing my chilled arms, I rose from the bench and took a last look at the scene below me.

“Unkindness and murder,” I whispered.

Enough. I moved swiftly toward my first victim.

“Vince, I’m so glad I spotted you. I only have a minute, but I found something I’m sure you’ll be interested in.”

He was standing with Felicity. She had arrived as I approached. Perfect. They both turned to me, curiosity writ large on their faces. Vince’s expression held an underlying tension. Felicity seemed hesitant, almost afraid. Interesting, but I had to be quick.

“I didn’t want to mention it before,” I had expressed my formal condolences earlier, to Vince and Joanna’s parents together, “but I thought you should know. Joanna left me a note early last week. I just found it. She wanted my help with some research. She gave me a few details but not much. I haven’t been able to make sense of it, but I thought you might. It was all very odd.”

I paused, watching their faces. Felicity shot one quick sideways glance at Vince, then went still. Vince frowned.

“I’d have to see—” he began.

“That’s what I thought, and of course now is not the time. Any luck with the flash drive, by the way? No? Well, I have some ideas. I’ll see what I can do. We’ll have to talk but now I’ve got to run. I’m supposed to touch base with some people before they leave. Be in touch!”

I dove into an opening in the crowd. I worked my way across the lawn, exchanging pleasantries with various villagers, my eye on the prize