Murder in Black Letter

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Synopsis

Steel talked between roses. Kintyre parried Yamamura's slash; his riposte thumped on the other man's arm. "Touché!" exclaimed the detective. He took off his mask and wiped sweat from a long, highcheeked face. "Or is it you who's supposed to say that? Anyhow, enough for today." "You're not doing so badly, Trig," Kintyre told him. "And I have some revenge due for all those times you've had me cartwheeling through the air, down at the dojo." Trygve Yamamura clicked his tongue. He stood over six feet tall, lanky, the Oriental half of him showing mostly in narrow black eyes and smoked-amber skin. "You would use sabers, wouldn't you?" he said. Robert Kintyre shrugged. "A foil is for women and I'm not fast enough for an épée. Also, there's professional interest. A saber is a wee bit closer to the Renaissance weapon." "I think I'll stick to Japanese swords."