You Shouldn't Give Me Any Clues
Brittaine lay languorous on the park bench, lolling gently in a mild distress. “Molloy,” she muttered softly. “Crack my skull for me.”
“But, Brittaine…”
“It is another of my dreadful migraines, Molloy,” the sleuth slurred. “The case is too easy. Too many clues rush through my brain with no resistance to their understanding, like a surfeit of blood through a distended artery. Strike me or something. Make the ease ease.”
“But, Brittaine…”
“Let us not forget that Athena sprang from a shattered skull! Wisdom must find its way from the mind into the world.”
“But, Brittaine…” came a Molloy maligned.
“It was the maid,” Brittaine said between desperate breaths. “I can tell by the upturned tureen, the Algerian passport, the empty syringe pushed only half-way, the light in the greenhouse, the vectrola playing and the Thursday as Friday. Of course, the monogram that Mrs. Stein saw was reversed in the mirror. It wasn’t HM at all!”
“But, Brittaine…”
“I had her, Molloy, at Algerian passport.”
“But, Brittaine…”
“It is another of my dreadful migraines, Molloy,” the sleuth slurred. “The case is too easy. Too many clues rush through my brain with no resistance to their understanding, like a surfeit of blood through a distended artery. Strike me or something. Make the ease ease.”
“But, Brittaine…”
“Let us not forget that Athena sprang from a shattered skull! Wisdom must find its way from the mind into the world.”
“But, Brittaine…” came a Molloy maligned.
“It was the maid,” Brittaine said between desperate breaths. “I can tell by the upturned tureen, the Algerian passport, the empty syringe pushed only half-way, the light in the greenhouse, the vectrola playing and the Thursday as Friday. Of course, the monogram that Mrs. Stein saw was reversed in the mirror. It wasn’t HM at all!”
“But, Brittaine…”
“I had her, Molloy, at Algerian passport.”