Free Murders in, Volume 2 by Elizabeth Daly

she’s so good to us all, Mr. Gamadge! We’re perfectly free and happy.”
    â€œNo latchkeys.”
    â€œWhat? Oh. No, I haven’t one, and Clara hasn’t. Angie hates them getting lost. Dick finally revolted; he got one when he left college and went into law school.”
    â€œNo animals allowed on the premises.”
    â€œThey ruined the furniture. Angie has her macaw.”
    â€œGood God.”
    â€œNow, please, Mr. Gamadge! She supports us all.”
    â€œIncluding Mr. Duncannon?”
    â€œOf course not. He’s been unlucky in his last plays, but he usually makes an excellent income. He adores her—it was a marriage for love.”
    â€œEverybody adored Mrs. Morton. She permitted Miss Dawson to get engaged to this Mr. Payne, and at an early age?”
    â€œAngela doesn’t care for the match—now; but that she could not interfere with.”
    Two men came almost simultaneously into the room: a young one, from the hall; and an older one, through the doorway that led from a room in the rear. Miss Vauregard said: “Mr. Gamadge, this is Mr. Duncannon; and this is my nephew Richard.”
    Duncannon came forward with the attractive, calculated awkwardness which Gamadge remembered as being an asset to him on the stage; the gait and manner of one who knows how to hold himself, but doesn’t have to bother about that any more. His voice lagged, too—a cultivated drawl. He had been very handsome, but he now looked his forty-odd years; his figure was thickening, and so were the Roman features of his bronzed, discontented face.
    â€œAwfully glad you’re on the job,” he said, shaking hands.
    â€œHigh time, too.” Richard Vauregard, a big, lumbering, worried-looking young man, nearly shook Gamadge’s arm off. “Now, let’s hope, we’ll get some action. To the deuce with all the pussyfooting. Mr. Gamadge, have you met the zombi?”

 
Volume II
Warning by
William Shakespeare

CHAPTER SEVEN
Head of the House
    â€œI F YOU ARE GOING TO BE VULGAR, dear,” said Miss Vauregard, who had seated herself on the settee to the right of the screened fireplace, and was glancing uneasily at Gamadge, “you may go away.”
    â€œVulgar, Aunt Rob? Zombies aren’t vulgar.”
    â€œMiss Smith didn’t say she had been dead.”
    â€œJust in abeyance. Well, I don’t propose to mince words about Miss Smith, I can tell you. I saw her once, and she struck me as well able to take care of herself. What do you say, Mr. Gamadge?”
    â€œQuite well poised, in every way.”
    â€œPoised! Of all the brazen-faced assurance—but Tom’s fallen for her.” He grimaced rudely at his uncle-in-law. “I forgot that. He won’t hear a word against her.”
    Duncannon walked with his long, balanced actor’s step to the left-hand window. He said coldly, over his shoulder: “Go chase yourself. I don’t care for your type of humor, that’s all.”
    â€œâ€˜Spare her, boys; she’s a woman. More to be pitied than blamed. Well, of course, she has no designs on your money; that makes a difference. We’re afraid of her, and they say fear leads to brutality.”
    â€œI’ve noticed that it does.”
    â€œNow, please,” said Miss Vauregard.
    â€œThat girl is not a common swindler,” continued Duncannon, parting the lace undercurtains to look out at the wide, empty street. “There’s something funny about this thing, somewhere. Don’t you agree with me, Gamadge?”
    â€œYou think she may be in the house with old Mr. Vauregard’s connivance?”
    â€œThat’s a notion!” Duncannon stared at him, his light hazel eyes widening between their long lashes.
    â€œA cockeyed notion.” Young Vauregard also stared.
    â€œI said it was silly.” Miss Vauregard turned her eyes resolutely away from Duncannon, and fixed them on her gloves, which she