her father and thought him so wicked he deserved to die.
Could that child have killed that man?
Well, of course she could. Children did kill, sometimes spectacularly. There had been a famous case in England not so long ago, two boys who had killed a girl, apparently simply for kicks. As I recalled, they hadnât been much older than Miriam.
But those children were mentally and emotionally disturbed.
It was easy to see that after the fact, wasnât it? And who was to say that Miriam wasnât disturbed? Sheâd certainly been brought up oddly enough to disturb the balance of anyoneâs mind.
Could she have stabbed a full-grown man? I wondered how sharp the knife was, and then was struck with horror that I would even think about it. Anyway, Doyle had, perhaps, not been killed with the knife. It would be easy enough, one would think, for someone to stab a dead or dying man. It wouldnât take much strength. Even a child â¦
Nauseated, I pushed the picture out of my mind.
However sickening the image, though, I forced myself to consider the idea. Not the details, but the broad outline.
Doyle has been to a meeting at the church. What sort of meeting? Would that be what they called their services? Well, no. A worship service would hardly go on until after midnight, would it? Or would it?
Well, let it pass for now. Heâs been to a meeting. He comes home and lets himself in with his key. Maybe heâs in a bad moodânot an unlikely supposition. He doesnât bother to be quiet, and he wakes Miriam, who is a light sleeper, according to her mother.
Then what? They quarrel? He scolds her for something, probably for being up at that hour, even though itâs his fault. He rouses such childish rage and resentment that she takes a knife and â¦
No. He was probably killed some other way, remember. And itâs hard to imagine Miriam, such a controlled child, in a rage. No, she takes everything he has to dish out, all the cold verbal abuse, all the sadistic torture a harsh parent can inflict on a helpless child. But this child has decided she isnât helpless. She makes him some tea and puts in some â¦
Some what? What does a child know of poisons?
A child with intelligent parents knows a lot about them. Thereâs poison aplenty in every household, and children must be taught caution. Something common, more or less tastelessâanyway, she finds something and puts it in his tea, and waits.
It would have to be something without violent symptoms, no vomiting or ⦠no, I donât know that, do I? Mama cleaned up the kitchen the next morning, donât forget. Still, it would be hard to clean all traces of vomit off the victimâs clothing, and the police didnât mention finding any.
At any rate, she waits. When her father is dead, she arranges him nicely on the floor and stabs him.
And then goes quietly off to bed to leave her mother to discover him in the morning?
The fact was, I thought, sitting back with a sigh, that I didnât know one single thing about what had gone on. The mother could have been in on it, but then why that look of horror on her face? Well, let that go for the moment. Suppose she was involved. Together they could have cleaned up the scene and waited for morning to call the police. Everything Mrs. Doyle said could have been a lie. And as for Miriam, a child suffering under harsh, unreasonable discipline often learns to lie almost as a matter of course.
Miriam hadnât actually said much, had she? Silence can be the most effective lie of all, if one has the poise to carry it off. And Miriam had plenty of poise, and plenty of intelligence.
I let out a long, shuddering sigh. I was constructing an elaborate hypothesis on the basis of nothing more than a few words and a terrified expression on a face. But I was ready to swear that Amanda Doyle believed her daughter guilty of murder.
What was I going to do about it?
I started the car and
Could that child have killed that man?
Well, of course she could. Children did kill, sometimes spectacularly. There had been a famous case in England not so long ago, two boys who had killed a girl, apparently simply for kicks. As I recalled, they hadnât been much older than Miriam.
But those children were mentally and emotionally disturbed.
It was easy to see that after the fact, wasnât it? And who was to say that Miriam wasnât disturbed? Sheâd certainly been brought up oddly enough to disturb the balance of anyoneâs mind.
Could she have stabbed a full-grown man? I wondered how sharp the knife was, and then was struck with horror that I would even think about it. Anyway, Doyle had, perhaps, not been killed with the knife. It would be easy enough, one would think, for someone to stab a dead or dying man. It wouldnât take much strength. Even a child â¦
Nauseated, I pushed the picture out of my mind.
However sickening the image, though, I forced myself to consider the idea. Not the details, but the broad outline.
Doyle has been to a meeting at the church. What sort of meeting? Would that be what they called their services? Well, no. A worship service would hardly go on until after midnight, would it? Or would it?
Well, let it pass for now. Heâs been to a meeting. He comes home and lets himself in with his key. Maybe heâs in a bad moodânot an unlikely supposition. He doesnât bother to be quiet, and he wakes Miriam, who is a light sleeper, according to her mother.
Then what? They quarrel? He scolds her for something, probably for being up at that hour, even though itâs his fault. He rouses such childish rage and resentment that she takes a knife and â¦
No. He was probably killed some other way, remember. And itâs hard to imagine Miriam, such a controlled child, in a rage. No, she takes everything he has to dish out, all the cold verbal abuse, all the sadistic torture a harsh parent can inflict on a helpless child. But this child has decided she isnât helpless. She makes him some tea and puts in some â¦
Some what? What does a child know of poisons?
A child with intelligent parents knows a lot about them. Thereâs poison aplenty in every household, and children must be taught caution. Something common, more or less tastelessâanyway, she finds something and puts it in his tea, and waits.
It would have to be something without violent symptoms, no vomiting or ⦠no, I donât know that, do I? Mama cleaned up the kitchen the next morning, donât forget. Still, it would be hard to clean all traces of vomit off the victimâs clothing, and the police didnât mention finding any.
At any rate, she waits. When her father is dead, she arranges him nicely on the floor and stabs him.
And then goes quietly off to bed to leave her mother to discover him in the morning?
The fact was, I thought, sitting back with a sigh, that I didnât know one single thing about what had gone on. The mother could have been in on it, but then why that look of horror on her face? Well, let that go for the moment. Suppose she was involved. Together they could have cleaned up the scene and waited for morning to call the police. Everything Mrs. Doyle said could have been a lie. And as for Miriam, a child suffering under harsh, unreasonable discipline often learns to lie almost as a matter of course.
Miriam hadnât actually said much, had she? Silence can be the most effective lie of all, if one has the poise to carry it off. And Miriam had plenty of poise, and plenty of intelligence.
I let out a long, shuddering sigh. I was constructing an elaborate hypothesis on the basis of nothing more than a few words and a terrified expression on a face. But I was ready to swear that Amanda Doyle believed her daughter guilty of murder.
What was I going to do about it?
I started the car and
Similar Books
