Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 106, No. 4 & 5. Whole No. 648 & 649, October 1995

Джеффри Дивер, Майкл Гилберт, Эд Горман, Стивен Сейлор, Янвиллем ван Де Ветеринг, Генри Слезар, Эдвард Д. Хох, Антония Фрейзер, Джиллиан Линскотт, Джон Л. Брин, Джеймс Пауэлл, Джанет Хатчингс, Кэтрин Х. Брукс, Клейтон Эмери, Дэвид Уильямс, Дороти Б. Дэвис, Дэвид Делман, Джон Ф. Доббин, Адель Глимм, Лиза Леповетски, Милт МакЛеод, Д. П. Рой-Майерс

Серия: Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, книга 648

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A journalist as well as a fiction writer, Gillian Linscott’s career has ranged from reporting chippan fires in Bootle, England to street riots in Belfast. Her previous incarnations include civil servant, market gardener, playwright, and parliamentary radio reporter. Exotic locations often figure in her fiction, as in passages from this new story.

We met for the first time in ten years at a gallery opening.

“Happy birthday,” I said.

She’d had her back to me until then, talking to a bearded man in denims. An elegant back in a blazer of black, sinuous silk, legs swathed in soft fuchsia-coloured pants in the same material. Silk spun by happy worms, naturally. She whirled round, spilling her Australian Sauvignon over poor denims. There was alarm on her face as she turned, but when she saw me it gave place to the familiar wide-mouthed smile. The smile had a question in it, eyebrows arched.

I explained: “Two days ago.”

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