Sunken Graves by Alan Lee (thriller book recommendations .txt) 📕

have far more words than other modern languages?”

“I did not know that.”

“It’s true. English has a melting pot ancestry. England has Celtic roots but the land was invaded by Norse speaking Vikings, and also by the Germans and the French, each depositing their own words. And don’t forget the Roman Empire imparting Latin. All those influences generated our language. Thus the synonyms.”

“Fascinating, Mr. Lynch. I’ll include that in my lessons.”

“Take horny for example, Ms. Hathaway.”

Her expression flattened. “Horny.”

His thigh muscles fluttered hearing her use the word.

“Yes, how many synonyms can you name for horny?”

“I’d rather not play this game.”

“Titillated. Aroused. Stimulated. Lewd.”

“Mr. Lynch—”

“Prurient, that’s a good one.”

“How about lecherous? It connotes an offense.”

“I prefer lust, Ms. Hathaway.”

“Maybe depraved. Is that a synonym?”

“Do you dabble in the depraved?”

“I do not accept this conversation, Mr. Lynch. It’s objectionable and I’d like to leave.”

“Oh we’re just having fun. There’s no harm in mild porneia.”

“I need to go. Now,” she said.

She said it but made no move toward the door. She said it but didn’t mean it. Yearning for him to be more aggressive. She’d quit wearing her engagement ring; he noticed months ago. Took it off for him.

Lynch came to the middle of the room.

“Let’s chat.” He lowered himself into a student desk and indicated she sit with him.

“I have a meeting.”

“I need your help with a school function, Ms. Hathaway.”

“Is that so.”

“The Academy’s holiday gala is a significant soirée. A can’t-miss event, compared to the flops of other schools. Each year I reserve the lavish Hunting Hills ballroom for the party. I’m the host.”

“Yes, I always attend,” she said.

“For this year’s holiday party, I’m changing the venue to my own home. I’m inviting you to be my co-host. Or hostess. You will help me plan.”

“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Lynch—”

“Remember when it used to be a Christmas party? Before the losers changed the facts. Include us, we need to be included.”

“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Lynch, but I decline.”

“Oh come now, don’t be shy. I could use a hand. I could use your hand.” He smiled and a small gurgle of laughter escaped his teeth.

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“I’m afraid I insist.”

Hidden under his hair, Lynch’s ears twitched. He heard the door unlock and swing open. His face darkened and he twisted in the chair, ready to skewer whoever dared—

Daniel Jennings stood in the doorway.

“I’m late for the meeting?” He pushed the door wide and propped it open, ruining the intimate atmosphere.

The key remained in the lock. Lynch recognized the dangling lanyard—it’d been circling Angela Pierce’s neck a moment ago. The insipid slut ran to Daniel Jennings and gave him her key and asked him to check on Ms. Hathaway’s conference.

Fire crept through the hallways of Lynch’s mind, spaces clean and fragrant with Daisy Hathaway now turning ugly.

“Hello Daniel. Still moving with the limp, I see.”

“Let’s race at the track, Mr. Lynch. See if you can beat a guy who limps.”

“This meeting is private, Dan.”

“He can stay, I don’t mind.”

Jennings said, “Thanks, I’ll stick around.”

“No, Daniel. You’ll be a good boy and do as you’re told. Leave.”

Jennings walked into the room. Sat in a student desk.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Hathaway said, “Mr. Lynch was telling me about all the synonyms for horny in the English language. Including porneia.”

“Porneia,” said Jennings.

“Daniel, I’m sure, is very familiar with the root word. Miserable handicapped men often are,” said Lynch.

“Just as I’m sure you’re familiar with aischrologia, Mr. Lynch. And biaios.”

Lynch was breathing through his open mouth; the movement rattled his airways, constricted with anger. There was a slight pause in the rattle.

“You’re pronouncing them wrong, Daniel, but I’m impressed,” he said.

“And, worst of all, phoneuó.”

“If I was familiar with phoneuó, believe me, you’d know,” said Lynch.

“Like last night?”

All the lines and wrinkles in Lynch’s face vanished. His hairline rose up his skull a fraction, like his scalp had tightened. “Last night?”

“Yes, Mr. Lynch, last night.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?”

“What the hell happened last night, Daniel?”

Lynch’s confusion was so profound and genuine that no one would accuse him of acting. He was off kilter, angry at his lack of control. Jennings’ understanding of ancient languages had thrown him. What’s more, the little twat accused him of being arrogant, violent, and murderous. A hell of an insinuation from a pathetic teacher, a man whose salary he subsidized. Their simmering feud was ratcheting up a notch. In front of Daisy Hathaway.

Lynch smacked his hand on the table. “Daniel. Answer me when I speak. What about last night?”

“Nothing.” Jennings shifted in the chair, also confused. Like a man struggling through cognitive dissonance. “Nothing, I was mistaken. Forget I mentioned anything happened last night.”

“I told you to make friends with the general. Not toy with him. A good sergeant knows when to salute.”

“If I see a general, I will. Do you know the insignia of an Army general, Mr. Lynch?”

“A star, but the number depends on whether he’s a Brigadier, Major, Lieutenant, or four-star. I read a fact, Daniel, I know it forever. Our minds are not equivalent.”

Jennings’ turn to be impressed. “You’re a student of the Army? Why didn’t you join up as a JAG?”

Lynch heard his father’s voice as if he were standing in the room—Drives you nuts, don’t it. Jennings being from a family of war heroes. And you, fat and slow, couldn’t even make the military as a JAG.

Lynch’s teeth ground so loudly that Hathaway and Jennings heard the noise but they couldn’t identify it. Lynch tasted blood. “Only nobodies chase glory over cash, Daniel. I had better things to do.”

“I get it, those rifles are heavy. Too bad, you could have been my superior officer.”

“I am your superior.” He turned away from Jennings. “Certainly you noted Daniel’s limp, Ms. Hathaway.”

“I don’t find it noticeable.”

“Didn’t he tell you about the injury?”

“I haven’t asked,” she said.

“The story’s juicy.”

“If Daniel wants to tell me sometime, I’d be happy to listen. To him.”

“Here’s the short version, Ms. Hathaway. His foot was blown off by friendly fire.”

Her fingers, drumming on her desk,