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Have His Carcase by Dorothy L. Sayers {Excerpt}

Have His Carcase by Dorothy L. Sayers {Excerpt}

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Published by OpenRoadMedia
When Harriet Vane finds a dead body on the beach, she and Lord Peter Wimsey must solve a murder when all the evidence has washed out to sea

Harriet Vane has gone on vacation to forget her recent murder trial and, more importantly, to forget the man who cleared her name—the dapper, handsome, and maddening Lord Peter Wimsey. She is alone on a beach when she spies a man lying on a rock, surf lapping at his ankles. She tries to wake him, but he doesn’t budge. His throat has been cut, and his blood has drained out onto the sand.

As the tide inches forward, Harriet makes what observations she can and photographs the scene. Finally, she goes for the police, but by the time they return the body has gone. Only one person can help her discover how the poor man died at the beach: Lord Peter, the amateur sleuth who won her freedom and her heart in one fell swoop.
When Harriet Vane finds a dead body on the beach, she and Lord Peter Wimsey must solve a murder when all the evidence has washed out to sea

Harriet Vane has gone on vacation to forget her recent murder trial and, more importantly, to forget the man who cleared her name—the dapper, handsome, and maddening Lord Peter Wimsey. She is alone on a beach when she spies a man lying on a rock, surf lapping at his ankles. She tries to wake him, but he doesn’t budge. His throat has been cut, and his blood has drained out onto the sand.

As the tide inches forward, Harriet makes what observations she can and photographs the scene. Finally, she goes for the police, but by the time they return the body has gone. Only one person can help her discover how the poor man died at the beach: Lord Peter, the amateur sleuth who won her freedom and her heart in one fell swoop.

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Published by: OpenRoadMedia on Jun 06, 2013
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09/29/2013

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Dorothy L. Sayers HAVE HIS CARCASE
 
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CHAPTER ITHE EVIDENCE OF THECORPSE
‘The track was slippery with spouting blood.’Rodolph
THURSDAY, 18 JUNETHE BEST REMEDY FOR 
a bruised heart is not, as so many people seem tothink, repose upon a manly bosom. Much more efficacious are honestwork, physical activity, and the sudden acquisition of wealth. After beingacquitted of murdering her lover, and, indeed, in consequence of thatacquittal, Harriet Vane found all three specifics abundantly at her disposal;and although Lord Peter Wimsey, with a touching faith in tradition, persisted day in and day out in presenting the bosom for her approval, sheshowed no inclination to recline upon it.Work she had in abundance. To be tried for murder is a fairly goodadvertisement for a writer of detective fiction. Harriet Vane thrillers were booming. She had signed up sensational contracts in both continents, andfound herself, consequently, a very much richer woman than she had ever dreamed of becoming. In the interval between finishing
 Murder by Degrees
and embarking on
The Fountain-Pen Mystery,
she had started off on a solitary walking-tour: plenty of exercise, no responsibilities and noletters forwarded. The time was June, the weather, perfect; and if she nowand again gave a thought to Lord Peter Wimsey diligently ringing up an
 
Dorothy L. Sayers HAVE HIS CARCASE
 
!
empty flat, it did not trouble her, or cause her to alter her steady coursealong the south-west coast of England.On the morning of the 18th June, she set out from Lesston Hoe withthe intention of walking along the cliffs to Wilvercombe, sixteen milesaway. Not that she particularly looked forward to Wilvercombe, with itsseasonal population of old ladies and invalids and its subdued attempts atthe gay life, seeming somehow themselves all a little invalid and old-ladyish. But the town made a convenient objective, and one could alwayschoose some more rural spot for a night’s lodging. The coast-road ran pleasantly at the top of a low range of cliffs, from which she could look down upon the long yellow stretch of the beach, broken here and there byscattered rocks, which rose successively, glistening in the sunlight, fromthe reluctant and withdrawing tide.Overhead, the sky arched up to an immense dome of blue, just frettedhere and there with faint white clouds, very high and filmy. The wind blew from the west, very softy, though the weather-wise might havedetected in it a tendency to freshen. The road, narrow and in poor repair,was almost deserted, all the heavy traffic passing by the wider arterial roadwhich ran importantly inland from town to town, despising the windingsof the coast with its few scattered hamlets. Here and there a driver passedher with his dog, man and beast alike indifferent and preoccupied; hereand there a couple of horses out at grass lifted shy and foolish eyes to look after her; here and there a herd of cows, rasping their jawbones upon astone wall, greeted her with heavy snufflings. From time to time the whitesail of a fishing-boat broke the seaward horizon. Except for an occasionaltradesman’s van, or a dilapidated Morris, and the intermittent appearanceof white smoke from a distant railway-engine, the landscape was as ruraland solitary as it might have been two hundred years before.

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