The Corpse with the Silver Tongue Read Online Free PDF

fruit because my Head of Department had written the address of a “Very Special Place” on a piece of paper and had begged me to bring a box of the confits for his wife. So I had found the shop in question in the Port area, had been amazed and entranced by the place itself, and horrified at the prices. But, having been educated by a wonderful assistant about the processes involved in making the candied fruits, petals, and peels, I could see why it would be so expensive. So fruits confits from the fabulous Confiserie Florian for Tamsin it was.
    As Tamsin rips open the wrapping paper she squeals, “Oh, sweeeeeties! Lovely!” You sound like a four-year-old. You and Alistair deserve each other—you each annoy me equally.
    â€œWhat’s that? What? What?” asks Alistair as he re-emerges from the kitchen.
    What an odd place to locate the intercom for the gate—I’d have it near the front door.
    â€œLook, she brought me sweeties, darling,” giggles Tamsin, holding the little basket for him to see.
    â€œAh, ‘Florian.’ Your favorites,” he says flatly.
    Tamsin is greedily eating a cherry. “Oh, yummy with the champers, Ally,” she squeaks. “More bubbles, please.” “Ally” obliges. Why does he let this little slip of a thing address him with such a damning diminutive? Maybe he really loves her. Or maybe it’s got more to do with what goes on in the bedroom . . . Immediately I try hard to wipe from my mind the thought of Alistair doing anything but sleeping in a bedroom. Ugh!
    â€œBeni’s on his way,” says Alistair. Again, flatly.
    â€œOh, lovely,” squeals Tamsin. She thinks of this other man as she thinks of another piece of candied fruit.
    â€œMmmm.” Alistair is almost growling. Alistair doesn’t like this Beni. Interesting. I bet he’s more physically attractive than Alistair. As Beni Brunetti enters the Townsends’ apartment I allow myself to take in his physical appearance. He stands about five feet ten inches tall, so about the same height as Alistair himself, but this man is a magnificent specimen. Alistair’s too-tight clothes look tacky when compared with the way that Beni’s own impeccably cut linen pants and shirt hang beautifully on his well-balanced frame. He’s broad-shouldered and quite slim-waisted, slightly muscular; his hair is longer than collar length—it’s dark and thick and sweeps back from his intelligent looking forehead; his teeth glitter as he smiles broadly, with genuine warmth; he has slight dimples; his dark eyes twinkle. He smells of leather, musk, and lemon. Fabulous combination—strength and freshness. He greets Alistair heartily, kissing him, then booms a fatherly “Ah, my bambino,” to Tamsin as he embraces her and kisses her too.
    She beams and offers her cheeks in turn, pushing them against his lips. Very forward!
    Tamsin finds Beni attractive, and Alistair feels threatened. How does Beni feel about Tamsin? I cannot see anything there that says “passion” or “desire.” Rather, I believe he feels as he probably should—that, while she might be young enough to be his daughter (he strikes me as somewhere in his mid-fifties), she’s another man’s wife.
    Interesting.
    Alistair clears his throat, then introduces me. “Doctor Benigno Brunetti, Cait. He’s quite the star locally.” Emphasis on the locally . “He runs the Roman Museum just up the hill. Have you been there yet, Cait? Eh? Smashing place. Just stuffed with wonderful old things.”
    â€œIt’s a magical place,” adds Tamsin dreamily. “Such wonderful bits and bobs. Such interesting stories.” I am wondering where in England Tamsin might have originated. I’m beginning to suspect somewhere north of London, with a few elocution lessons thrown in to take the edge off her accent.
    â€œYes. Yes. Quite,”