The Fabulous Beast Read Online Free PDF Page A

it.
    ‘Thank you, Simon,’ I said, coldly, ‘I am well able to withstand a temperate evening without my topcoat.’
    ‘As you wish, sir, but Autumn is arriving.’
    Let her come , I thought, wearily, I shall welcome her to my door as readily as I do her sister, Winter.
    At dinner she appeared to ignore him as he stood behind my chair, but I knew those smiles she cast around the table were all for him. My own position was excruciating. I could not turn and look at Simon: that would have given him enormous pleasure. Yet I felt him to be smirking behind my back. I wanted to kill the smug libertine where he stood: stick my dinner knife in his back; ram my silver fork in his eye. He was making my life an utter misery. She was making my life a misery.
    Count Von Friedrich’s daughter was unbearably beautiful. You could proclaim no more or less. Were I able to launch into similes and metaphors which would have poets biting their lips in envy I would be no closer to the truth. Her loveliness was as pure and understated as a snowdrop. Sofia was 19, had the softest eyes I have ever seen and her smile could not have been more enchanting if her parents had been fay. My heart yearned for one of those smiles, yet I knew that Simon gathered in each and every one. He was their sole recipient, and he knew it, and revelled in it.
    In the sweetest tone I could muster, I said, ‘Simon, I should like some more consommé, if you please.’
    ‘Yes sir,’ came his infuriatingly compliant voice, ‘at once, sir.’
    A serving girl was signalled behind my back and the soup, which I did not want, was very soon ladled into my plate.
    As you may have gathered Simon and Sofia were lovers, one being the manservant, assigned to me by the count for the length of my stay at Friedrichschlosschen, the other being the German aristocrat’s nonpareil daughter. Simon was of course tall and very handsome, I have to concede him that, and but a handful of years older than Sofia. But he was of peasant stock, a hill farmer’s son, of no worth whatsoever. They were doomed but seemed totally careless with the future, which made it all the more hurtful to me. If she could deliberately risk all – her wealth and position in society – she must have been so very deeply in love with the youth.
    A buttered green fish was passed under my nose. The chatter around me seemed to increase in volume. Then Simon jolted my chair and I realised I was being asked a question.
    ‘Herr Maurer,’ the count was saying, ‘are you any closer to discovering the identity of the murderer?’
    The clink and clatter of silver cutlery on bone china ceased for a moment. I was suddenly aware that all eyes around the dinner table were on me. The question had caught me in the middle of my contemplations and I was unprepared for it. However, I rallied quickly, knowing that she would be listening and assessing my own worth. I wiped my lips on my table napkin to give me more thinking-time, before replying.
    ‘Count, my analysis has not yet reached the stage where I can announce the results of my research. I hope to do so within the next two or three weeks, but of course as you well know, these murders stretch over three centuries, and therefore we are looking for several murderers , most of them long gone to their maker themselves.’
    ‘Yes of course,’ replied the count in that silky tone he used when he was annoyed, ‘while I understand your interest in historical killers, my personal concern is the current one. I have a wife and daughter to protect.’
    ‘My detections have not yet reached the stage, count, where I can with all confidence provide you with my deductions.’
    ‘Two or three weeks?’
    ‘Yes, count.’
    He dismissed me with a wave of his fork and a shrug, and then lost interest and went back to his meal. The rest of the table continued to stare but for a moment or two longer at me, then returned to chattering with their neighbours. I sat miserably stirring my soup,