Read The Corpse with the Silver Tongue for Free Online Page B

eat. The dressing is good. We use the bread to mop it up. Alistair replaces the bowl with a huge platter mounded with steaming, garlicky snails, and a round of applause greets its arrival. Everyone comments on how wonderful Alistair’s escargots always look. Apparently, he is famous for them. Alistair takes a huge portion and passes the platter to Madelaine, who needs help, it is so heavy. Beni stands to assist her. He serves her, then himself, passes the platter to Gerard, and it finally reaches me, Chuck, and Tamsin. Tamsin takes a tiny portion. Alistair takes more snails, then raises a glass of champagne and shouts, “ Bon appétit! ”
    We all drink and eat. There are comments about how tasty, plump, and juicy the snails are. I agree. They are. Alistair and his hill farmers are doing a great job! More bread is passed around, more champagne. I speak to Gerard, who tells me about the gardens, and the way they have developed over the years into different sections—Italian, formal, Mediterranean, English Country, and so on, with all the different sections requiring different types of tending.
    Alistair and Madelaine are disagreeing about something. Lots of “Non, non, it is bad for here . . .” from Madelaine, and “But it will be good—yes, yes . . .” from Alistair.
    Gerard shouts, “It is sacrilege!” He slams his aged fist onto the table. He is clearly very distressed.
    â€œPlease stop fighting at my party,” I hear Tamsin say. “The swimming pool is divisive!” I nearly choke with surprise, but all becomes calm again, and Alistair and Madelaine clink glasses by way of declaring a truce. Beni rolls his eyes at Gerard, who shakes his head in reply. Then Alistair coughs, drops his bread, clutches at his chest, and falls into his plate of snails.
    Now . . . now I must concentrate. Who does what? I have to slow down the movie and study each face.
    Tamsin: She throws down a morsel of bread and says “Ally! Stop it! Stop messing about!” Her whole attitude says  . . .  annoyance.
    Madelaine: She brings her hand to her chest in surprise, almost matching Alistair’s motions and says “ Mon Dieu! ” quickly, and quietly. She is at full alert, leaning toward Alistair. She knows something is very wrong.
    Beni: He laughs and throws his hands up, booming “Alistair! No!” His face shows amusement, but some annoyance.
    Gerard: He’s looking intently at Alistair. He’s alarmed. Immediately. His hands move to the arms of his chair, so he can rise. He says nothing.
    Chuck: He’s facing me, with a puzzled look on his face. “What’s Alistair up to now—fooling around again, I guess?” He smiles broadly, then turns to look at his dead host.
    There isn’t one look of relief at the table. Not one hint of guilt. All the reactions are natural, or at least, explicable.
    Then I leap up, quicker off the mark than Gerard, and I rush to Alistair. I lift him, with Beni’s help. I feel no neck pulse. I shake my head. Tamsin starts to wail. Chuck comforts her, holding her in his arms . . . She pulls away and rushes to the staircase.
    â€œHe’s gone . . . Ally’s gone!” she wails as she runs upstairs. I wonder where she is going, but I am trying to lay Alistair back onto the table top, and deciding if we should move the plate of snails first. I think it best to move it to one side, wipe the garlic butter from his face, and replace his head onto the table—gently.
    Tamsin arrives with her damned twigs, Beni suggests we leave the table, and we all agree. We troop through the kitchen to the balcony. Gerard comes out and announces the imminent arrival of the emergency services. Tamsin is last to join us, as she’s waggling her sticks about. When we’re all outside Beni goes back to make sure that she hasn’t set anything alight with her