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The Killing
of Hamlet

by Ann Morven
A Sheil B. Wright whodunit in which murder stalks an English village.

© copyright Ann Morven

Smashwords Edition 2009, ISBN 978-1-4523-0960-6
First published 2009 by Darling Newspaper Press
PO box 176, Kalamunda, Western Australia 6926.

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My offence is rank! It smells to Heaven. - HAMLET

THE first murder was before an audience, in a picture-postcard English village, ten miles from the roar of the M1, on a temperate summer’s day, the kind that nudged Shakespeare to lyrical bliss.

Perhaps more lovely than this day, yet not more temperate, the Queen of Scotland stood nervous in battle helmet and breastplate. A tall blonde, she gleamed in the afternoon sun but muffed her opening monologue. Her shrill quaver stumbled through hesitant silences, loudly whispered prompts, and shouted suggestions by merry playgoers. And she the conqueror of England, Hamlet's bride-to-be. The acting was so woeful I resolved to slip away after singing my ballads during the first interval.

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