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Authors: Marian Babson

BOOK: Please Do Feed the Cat
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‘You might have told me you were going to the States.’ Dorian King sounded distinctly pettish. ‘I could have given you any number of people to look up. They’d have shown you a wonderful time.’
‘I
had
a wonderful time.’ Lorinda took a deep breath and tried not to sound pettish herself. ‘It all happened very suddenly when there was what they called “a window of opportunity”. Besides,’ she remembered, ‘you weren’t around. You were away on one of your cruises.’
‘You needn’t say it as though I were off on some sort of jaunt. It was a necessary part of my convalescence. I was nearly murdered, you know.’
‘“Nearly” doesn’t count.’ Freddie had come up behind them.
‘I’m surprised you don’t say “Better luck next time.”’ Yes, he was in a very waspish mood. Perhaps he had a right to be. His injuries had been quite fearsome, even considering that head wounds were notoriously bloody. Yet there seemed to be an extra edginess in the way he looked around the party. The killer had been caught and was awaiting trial. Surely, Dorian couldn’t still be in fear of his life. He was safe among friends now.
‘I might say that yet,’ Freddie assured him. ‘What’s this rumour I’ve been hearing about you?’
‘Which rumour is that?’ Dorian’s tone was guarded; judging from his expression there could be a wide choice of rumours.
‘The one about your … impending house guest. Your … protégée.’
‘Nothing of the sort,’ he denied quickly. ‘A mere colleague, an acquaintance from New York. She’s coming over to do research for her historical series. Naturally, I invited her to stay with me, since I have so much room.’
‘Historicals seem to be flying high these days,’ Freddie observed. ‘Have you met Gemma’s cousin yet? She’d be a good one to get together with your house guest. They ought to have a lot in common.’
Lorinda blinked. Was it her imagination, or had Dorian suddenly gone several shades paler? Was he all right?
‘Er, yes,’ he said uneasily. ‘Yes, no doubt.’ He looked across the lobby to the makeshift bar where Gemma and her Cousin Opal were holding forth.
‘Why don’t we sit down?’ Lorinda suggested, adding hastily, as Dorian’s mouth tightened, ‘I’m afraid I’m still feeling a bit jetlagged and dizzy.’
‘Oh, very well.’ Since it was her weakness, he could pander to it. They settled themselves on the padded top of a window seat nestled between the marble arches framing the comfortable niche. The silver handle of Dorian’s ebony walking stick glittered as he raised it in an imperious gesture.
Betty Alvin immediately headed in their direction, detouring only to catch up a tray of canapes from a nearby table.
‘Ah, excellent.’ That was obviously what Dorian had wanted. ‘And, while you’re about it, why don’t you commandeer a bottle of that Chardonnay and freshen our drinks?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Betty nodded and obediently trotted off towards the table where the bottles were arrayed.
‘Really, Dorian, you’re impossible!’ Freddy said. ‘Betty is not only off duty, she’s a guest, like the rest of us. She shouldn’t be running your errands.’
‘She doesn’t mind.’ Dorian sounded mildly surprised at
the reprimand. ‘She’s very —’ He leaned against a marble arch and his eyes widened in amazement.
‘ …
pack of self-satisfied, middle-class, middle-aged, mid-list second-raters
…’ The others could hear the woman’s voice now, low and venomous, as she ranted on. ‘ …
never seen a mean street, or a corpse in their lives … nerve to write about it
…’
‘Well!’ Dorian had regained his breath, his eyes narrowed. ‘Nice to know what people think of us.’
‘“Would some power the giftie give us”,’ Freddie quoted.
‘This place is a whispering gallery,’ Lorinda explained. ‘We discovered that a while ago. It’s all the marble, I suppose —’
‘ …
my friends
…’ They hadn’t needed to hear Macho’s voice to know who must have been speaking. ‘ …
and, I can assure you, we’ve all seen our share of — murder victims — in the past few months.’
‘I’ll never know what he sees in her,’ Freddie complained. ‘You’d think —’
‘ …
chance to break out … can’t weaken now … you’ve got to
…’ The voice died away and they looked across the room to see Cressie and Macho emerge from one of the alcoves opposite them.
‘What does she want him to do?’ Freddie wondered what they were all wondering. Nothing he really wanted to do, judging from the expression on Macho’s face.
‘Here we are!’ Gemma rushed up to them, flourishing a bottle. ‘Betty said you were running low. Can’t have that!’ She poured briskly.
Betty Alvin, Lorinda saw, had just been cornered by Cressie and was not looking any happier than Macho as Cressie harangued them both.
The few local shopkeepers Gemma had invited were clustered together, except for Jennifer Lane of the bookshop, who was talking to – or rather, listening to – Cousin Opal. From the look on her face, she was finding Opal a bit wearing.
‘It’s going rather well, I think.’ Gemma looked around and gave a satisfied nod. ‘Everyone is here except Hilda Saint – she warned me she might be late. She’s having an extension built on her guest house and she tries to supervise the builders as much as possible to make sure they keep working – they seem to be an awkward lot.’
‘Aren’t they always?’ She might be awkward, too, Lorinda thought, if she had to have Hilda Saint constantly hovering to make sure she was getting her money’s worth.
‘Oh, and I have a message for you from Professor Borley.’ Gemma gave Lorinda an arch look. ‘Such a charming man! He’s at some conference in Oxford this week, but he’s delighted that you’re back and is looking forward to being able to interview you soon.’
‘Thanks,’ Lorinda said bleakly. She supposed it had been too much to hope that the American academic had forgotten about the interview he wanted. She liked the professor well enough, but would have liked him better had he not decided that his next entry in the academic Publish or Perish Stakes was going to be an in-depth study of English mystery writers in their native habitat: Brimful Coffers.
‘Isn’t his sabbatical year just about up?’ Freddie felt the same. ‘He seems to have been hanging about here for ever.’
‘Oh, I believe he still has another month or so in hand. And,’ Gemma added enthusiastically, ‘he says he might be able to get a bit of an extension if his work is going well.’
‘Mmmm.’ Freddie was not so enthusiastic.
‘So you needn’t worry,’ Gemma went on. ‘Our happy little group isn’t going to be broken up yet. In fact —’ she gave Dorian another of her arch looks – ‘I gather more happy reunions are in the offing. I hear you’ve had a postcard from Edinburgh …?’ She waited expectantly.
‘Ermm … yes.’ After a long pause, Dorian decided to respond. ‘The Jackleys are back from the Continent and
doing some touring around Britain at the moment. They say they’re looking forward to being back in Brimful Coffers soon.’
‘That’s a blow.’ Freddie was not pleased at the news that her neighbours in the other half of her semi-detached were returning. ‘I was hoping they’d succeeded in killing each other by now.’
Dorian gave an involuntary nod of agreement which he tried to disguise by a sudden coughing fit. Obviously, the thought of Karla Jackley back in pursuit of him was no more welcome than Lorinda’s threatened interview.
‘Oh, it will be nice to have us all back together again,’ Gemma gushed. ‘It will be so healing – after all we went through. If only …’ Her face darkened. ‘That poor child …’
‘You’re brooding about it again!’ Her Cousin Opal swept up to them, Jennifer Lane trailing reluctantly in her wake. ‘I can tell by the expression on your face. You’ve got to stop! It wasn’t your fault’! You weren’t driving the car!’
‘I know, I know,’ Gemma wailed. ‘But I can’t help feeling that I should have been able to do more. I couldn’t even tell the police what kind of car it was. And I must have seen something that would give them a clue!’
Her words rang out into one of those abrupt silences that can fall over a group. There was a theory, wasn’t there, Lorinda seemed to recall, that these fell at twenty minutes to, or twenty minutes past, the hour. She was surreptitiously glancing at her watch to check the time when Gemma’s voice rang out again.
‘I feel so awful about it that …’ Gemma lowered her voice and leaned closer to them. ‘That I’m thinking of volunteering to be hypnotized! They say you can remember all sorts of things you think you never noticed at the time if a professional hypnotist regresses you.’
‘It’s worth considering.’ Her cousin nodded. ‘It might even work. You’d have nothing to lose.’
‘Exactly. And it might make her family feel better. At least, then, they’d know we’d tried everything.’
‘Sorry about the delay.’ Betty Alvin, having broken free of Cressie, bustled up to them with a bottle. ‘Oh – you’ve already been topped up.’
‘Don’t go away.’ Dorian was looking a bit frayed. ‘It won’t be long before we can use another.’
‘So kind of you to help, dear,’ Gemma said, automatically scanning the room to make certain all her guests were happy. A faint frown rumpled her forehead as her gaze rested on Macho, then moved away. There was nothing even the most perfect of hostesses could do to rescue him from his predicament.
‘I can’t stay much longer,’ Dorian said abruptly. ‘I’m expecting a call from my agent. Something about a lecture tour. I suppose I shall have to do it.’ He did not look as reluctant as his words suggested.
‘What a shame,’ Gemma sympathized. ‘They’re working you too hard.’
A muffled snort from Betty Alvin reminded the others who did most of the hard work. Gemma didn’t notice the hidden message but, unfortunately, brought her attention to bear on the communal secretary.
‘Opal, have you had a chance to discuss things with Betty yet? I know your deadline is coming up and – ’
‘No!’ Betty’s voice rose. ‘No, I’m sorry. I can’t do it! She’s not the only one with a deadline. I can’t take on any more work!’
Lorinda and Freddie shifted guiltily. Perhaps, Lorinda decided, she woudn’t ask Betty to type up the diary she’d been keeping on her trip – at least, not yet.
‘Oh, but surely —’ Gemma, made of sterner stuff, was not so easily discouraged.
‘No!’ Betty slammed the bottle down on the table. The bottle swayed, but did not break. The same could not be said for Betty.
‘I can’t
do
all this! There’s only one of me – and there’s more of you every day! Even that tart of Macho’s thinks I have nothing better to do than drop everything whenever she waves a manuscript in my direction!’ Her voice was
higher, she was perilously close to tears or hysteria – or both. ‘I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!’ She whirled and rushed for the back stairs leading up to her attic quarters.
‘Well!’ Gemma said to Opal. ‘We’ll just have to wait and talk to her when she’s in a better mood.’
‘It’s not like Betty to throw a wobbly like that.’ Dorian frowned. ‘Have you all been pushing her too hard? I have first call on her services, remember, and I’ll want my lecture notes sorted out and the first draft of the new book ready to take with me to work on while I’m touring.’
Poor Betty. How she must rue the day she allowed Dorian to talk her into taking up residence in Brimful Coffers. It was fortunate that Dorian hadn’t decided to move her into the housekeeper’s rooms in the Manor House. Of course, that would have cramped his style with the various ladies who floated into and out of his life. Which might have been the reason he hadn’t yet acquired a housekeeper and depended on the services of a daytime cook and cleaner from the village.
‘Has something upset Betty?’ Macho sidled up, looking as guilty as Lorinda felt. Cressie strode behind him.
‘I don’t know why you rave about that woman.’ Cressie sent a contemptuous glance at Betty’s retreating back. ‘She isn’t at all helpful. In fact, she’s the most obstructive person I’ve ever met.’
‘She helps
us
.’ Freddie sent Cressie a glance of her own. Cressie was undoubtedly an expert on obstructive people. The way she talked to them was not likely to bring out their co-operative qualities.
‘We’ve never had any problem with her.’ Lorinda backed Freddie.
‘Well, I don’t know how you do it.’
‘Perhaps it’s because we say please.’ Freddie darted a look at Dorian. ‘Most of us.’
‘But I offered her double pay.’ Cressie was uncomprehending.
‘Really?’ Gemma’s eyebrows arched meaningfully at Opal. ‘That’s hardly fair play. No wonder Betty is so upset.
It isn’t done to bribe your way to the front of the queue. Betty takes everyone in turn as they come along.’
‘Macho was in the queue already.’ Cressie gave her a poisonous look. ‘Just because he’s changed his mind about what he’s going to write, she wants to treat it as a new assignment. That’s not fair!’
‘Oh, look!’ Gemma was not prepared to debate the subject any longer. ‘There’s Hilda now!’ She waved to the guest house proprietor, who had just arrived. Hilda waved back feebly and moved towards the drinks table.

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