A Corpse for Christmas: A Warm and Witty Standalone Christmas Mystery (An Izzy Palmer Mystery Book 5) by Benedict Brown

Author:Benedict Brown [Brown, Benedict]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Heathdene Books
Published: 2020-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

I left Admiral Winters looking out of the window at the dying light. It was barely lunchtime but the sky had clouded over and we would not see the sun again that day.

“So what did you find out from Suzanne?” I asked Ramesh once I’d extracted him from the boys’ room.

He looked both ways to check there was no one listening. “She told me that my Christmas cake was the best she’s ever eaten.” His silly grin spread across his silly face. It curled up the ends of his Freddie Mercury moustache which he’d been promising to shave off for weeks. “How good is that? My very first Christmas cake and it’s the best she’s ever had.”

“About the case, Ra!” I pursed my lips together and wrinkled my nose. “What did you find out about the dead woman in the snow?”

“Why would I have asked her about that?” He sounded like the very idea was ridiculous. “You told me to have a chat with her!”

I let out a weary groan. “So you didn’t discover anything that could be useful?”

“Nope.” He sounded quite proud.

“You don’t even have an inkling of what Suzanne might know or what I should ask her?”

He bowed his head gallantly. “That’s right. We mainly talked about my ‘Downton Abbey’ erotic fan fiction. I have to say, she sounded very interested in what the Dowager Countess got up to in my last story.”

I took a deep breath. It had already been a long day. “Great. So you weren’t any help whatsoever.”

He took my hands in his. “On the contrary, good lady. On the contrary.” Wiggling his eyebrows at me, he attempted a wise expression but ended up looking like a hammy stage magician. “I’ve lulled her into a false sense of security so that you can go in there and extract all the facts you need.”

“Really, Ramesh,” I began. “Sometimes I think-

“No, Sally Starmer.” He held one hand up to stop me. “You don’t have to thank me. But I’d better be getting on with lunch, so I must run.” With a full bow this time, Ramesh retreated downstairs.

I knocked on the door to the children’s room. It was red with golden stars all over and had a large Father Christmas head painted on the centre. It reminded me once more how much nine-year-old Izzy would have loved this place. It was the ideal, cosy Christmas holiday destination (except for the crazed killer).

“Come in, Sally,” Suzanne replied and I pushed on Santa’s nose.

I was about to start in on my questions when a feeling of tiredness came over me. “Do you know what?” I asked her. “I really fancy a hot chocolate. Shall we see what’s in the kitchen?”

She smiled in reply. “Not just a pretty face, are you, Sally?”

Pretty? Us? Oh you do jest. But please continue cos we like it!

The kitchen in her family’s chalet was the only tidy room in the house. I had to assume this was because no one had actually set foot in it.

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