A Will To Murder by Hilary Thomson

to give. “And what are you here for?” his uncle asked in a glacial tone. “Can I have a dollar?” “No. Now leave.” “Are you going to be like this the whole visit?” wailed Arthur. “Yes. Now go away and keep out of my rooms.” Glumly, the boy left the library. He intended to sulk, but his mother made him go into the living room and introduce himself to Briarly. He shoved Frederick inside one of the Chinese urns on his way, not about to meet a girl while holding a stuffed rabbit. “Here, Arthur, you two have a nice little talk while Katherine shows us what she’s been renovating.” Briarly’s face was suspicious, and Arthur examined her resentfully. She was taller than he was, he noted with disgust. She was breathing red soda breath into his face. It wasn’t fair that she had gotten a twenty-dollar bill and he hadn’t. But he supposed he ought to say something to this cousin-like creature. “Do you know that seagulls can’t burp? If you give them an Alka-Seltzer they will explode,” he told her. Briarly only stared at him. She didn’t seem very trusting, and with Richie as a brother, Arthur didn’t blame her. “I don’t want to talk to you. I want to play with my doll,” she replied, and raced out the front door. Arthur was somewhat disappointed. He had been hoping for one decent kid to play with, since Richie was obviously a monster. He shrugged and wandered over to his mother, stopping briefly to fetch Frederick from the urn. Rose stooped to pluck a cobweb off the rabbit. “Where’d Briarly go?”