Page went to the wheelchair and kissed Uncle Benedict on the forehead. “What’s happened?” he asked.
“Nothing special; I just wanted to see if you’ve found anything out about that broken bottle—”
“Damn it, Page,” he said irritably, “how did I teach you to lie?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything. When you lie, never rush your words; it sounds too rehearsed. Remember, you mustn’t let even a fool think you’re rehearsing something. When you lie, you must be completely relaxed—your voice must not be tense. ‘Each sentence should be short, and don’t mix lies with explanations; that’s where most liars fall. He puts himself on the defensive where he should be most convincing. Now, sit down and tell me why you’re so shocked. The truth, if you can. If not, tell me a lie that would make me proud of you. What’s happened?”
Page said, “They’ve arrested Don Kimberly for murdering Stella.”
“What evidence do they have?”
“That’s the problem. They found a bottle of potassium cyanide among his photographic chemicals in his darkroom sink.”
Uncle Benedict threw back his gray-haired head and laughed. “This is no joking matter,” she said.
“He’s been completely fooled, that’s all. He has a whole darkroom with a sink, running water, and all, right?”
“Yes.”
“How many more people does he need to poison with cyanide before they’re satisfied?”
“What do you mean?”
“Suppose he killed her; he’s achieved his goal. That’s what he wanted to do. He’s done, the poison is no longer useful to him; he’d flush the rest down the drain. No, someone planted it. It’s funny the police haven’t thought of this. Maybe they have, perhaps they’re just setting traps for him to fall into.”
As she listened to him speak, she understood the logic of his words, suddenly enlightened. She spread the photos in front of him. Uncle Benedict’s eyes lit up.
“Nice-looking girl,” he said, examining the photos of Stella in a swimsuit. “Very nice.”
Aunt Martha, pouring hot tea for Page, hummed, “If you listen to him, you’d think he was Don Juan.”
“No, Casanova, Casanova,” Uncle Benedict corrected her, a bit annoyed.
“Now, what about these photos, Page?”
