Poisoned Son

Chapter 1

"I see you've chosen Madame Bovary," the man in the bookstore said. "I'm a fan myself."

The young woman, startled by the interruption, stepped back and studied the handsome stranger's face.

He went on. "Don't you think Flaubert must've had great insight into women to be able to write in Emma's voice?"              

She frowned, closed the book, and slid it back onto the shelf. "I don't know how much insight he had. He cast her as an adulteress, a bad mother, and had her swallow arsenic when the money ran out."

The man grimaced. "You're right."

She cocked her head. "The truth is, I've read the novel four times. Do you know the author once said he refused to bring children into the world because he didn't want to pass the aggravations of existence onto his heirs?"

He chuckled. "Perhaps he was on to something." He paused then, "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gabriel Contini." 

"April Kebrick," she replied coolly.

The man extended his hand to shake hers. She took it. As she admired his features, April could never have imagined she was looking at the face of the man she'd fall for, and eventually suspect of a horrible crime.

She noticed then he was holding a book by D.H. Lawrence, 'The Fox,' a novel fraught with machismo in her opinion. A wry smile escaped her lips.   

"I loathe clichés," Gabriel said. "But do you come here often?"

"A few times a year," she replied. "This shop is a treasure. I browse for hours and leave with a bagful of reading that lasts for months. How about you?"

"I come when I'm in the area. I'm a musician, so I like to go to Harlon's Music Store down the street."

"What do you play?"

"Violin."

"Hmm. I'm not musically inclined myself, but I do enjoy listening."

He turned, lifted his chin in profile, and gently ran his finger down the spine of a book. This struck her as a practiced pose—something an actor would do.

There was a momentary lull and they both smiled and looked down.

"Do you play professionally?" April asked.

"No. I'm an instructor at Divinity University in Providence."

"Ah, a noble profession."

He laughed. "I don't know about that. You know what they say about those who teach. What do you do?"

"My day job or my hobby?"

"I'd like to know both," he answered with a grin.

"I'm an assistant editor for the Island Voice. I also paint."

"What do you paint?"

"Seascapes mostly, but I dabble in abstract art."  

"Impressive. I'd like to see your work sometime."

"I can arrange that if you'd like." 

She added, "By the way, that was a brilliant segue way to asking for my number."

Gabriel let out a surprised laugh. "It was, right? I didn't even plan it."

With polite introductions out of the way and humor achieved, they let their eyes drift toward the front window. A man on the sidewalk was dressed like a medieval jester. He handed out advertisements for an upcoming street festival. He was a thin, garish creature, with a white face and stark make-up. 

They watched as he twirled in a flurry of satin colors, grinning at passers-by, and presenting the flyers with dramatic flourish.

"I've always considered clowns to be strange and frightening," April said slowly. "All that ruse and ruffle. Makes you wonder what they're hiding."

"Not exactly a children's clown," Gabriel said with a chuckle. "That fellow is some kind of mime noir!"      

At this, April laughed.

"I hope this isn't too forward," he offered. "Would you like to go out for dinner sometime?" 

April blushed. "I think I'd like that."

"Wonderful. So I take it you're not married or involved?" 

"No," she answered wistfully. "Completely free." 

She whipped a slick business card from her handbag and passed it to him. "Call me." 

"I certainly will," Gabriel replied with a wink, pocketing the card. "Sooner than later."

On the other side of the glass, the glittering harlequin looked their way, pirouetted, bowed, and danced away.